


Lieutenant Novac-West Germany-Cold War

by Chiefraz



Series: Cadet Novac [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Benny Lafitte, Alpha John Winchester, Alpha Mary Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Army, F/M, Knotting, Light Bondage, M/M, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Underage Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 125,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiefraz/pseuds/Chiefraz
Summary: Cas is finally in West Germany and ready to take on his Army career, raise a family and come to grips with his alphas.  Maybe life has finally begun. Welcome to Europe of the Cold War years.  This part of the story takes place from January 1979 to August 1981





	1. Flying the 'Friendly Skies;

Hello one and all. Thank you so much for everything. The kind words, the questions and suggestions. Welcome to Part Three of the Cadet Novac Series. It's 1979, the close of the old decade and the beginning of the new. On your mark,get set....let's go!

 

“This is your captain speaking,” the standard opening line airline pilots make in that generic southern accent universal among American alpha males of this particular profession no matter what part of the country they’re from, came over the loud speaker. The tone is neutral so that any news good or bad could be delivered, digested and you could either cheer or freak in equal measure. “Sorry folks, due to the severity of the winter storm effecting the Northeast, the Philadelphia Airport is now closed and we’ve been rerouted to Newark International in Newark, New Jersey.”

FUCK FUCK FUCK! This can’t be happening! Time to freak!

“Once in Newark, you can check in at US Airline desk to book a new flight, or continue to your destination with ground transportation. If you decide to use the ground transport, please let our agents know and your luggage will be made available at a designated baggage carousal. Thank you for your patience and understanding. Well apologize for the inconvenience.”

Oh man, well isn’t this a kick in the head?! Leaned back in my seat and wished to the Alpha God, I could have a drink. When this pregnancy is over, I’m going to find a liquor store and drink it. “Papa sad?” Looked down at my son, Jeff’s little face was screwed up ready to cry. Gotta get my dance step together, it’s not just me. Urk, the kick in the ribs from Ulysses certainly was a reminder that it’s the three of us, and one of us needs to remember he’s the adult of this operation. 

“No Jeffy, Papa not sad. Pissed maybe, but not sad.” Fu.....fudge and the morning had started out halfway decent too. At 09:30 I heard my name and posting read aloud: ‘Lt Castiel Novac, Kasierslautian, West Germany’, got up from my seat and walked across the stage of the Mifflin Hall auditorium. Shook hands with General Sheffey and taking possession of that little hunk of paper that said I completed the General Troop Support Materiel Management course. HOT DAMN! I’M OUTTA HERE! 

“BATS!” Patrica Harras was in the audience again with Jeff, Rosey and Jimmy. The pups got to play hooky again from school to see me graduate and get us to the airport in their moms brand new used car. That extra 40 bucks to watch Jeff over night while I studied put the Harras in the ball park, together with all the pup sitting money, to put a good down payment on a 1974 Dodge Monaco Station wagon. It was a big bronze Brougham bomb. The thing had a 4 barrel carb, four on the floor and the 250 horse power engine sucked gas like it was soda pop and drove like a tank. But it was love at first drive and they had to have that car. The pups called it ‘The Whale’ but Miss Pat affectionately called her ‘Genevieve’.

On the way to the airport, also found out, nobody got in Genevieves way. Not that I would say Pat Harras drove with spirited abandon, though I would imply that she drove with just the tiniest bit of hostility. “Moooooooommmmmmmmm! Make Jimmie move! I want the window seat or I’m gonna throw up!” Rosey yelled. Apparently the pup got car sick real easy and didn’t always have her Dramamine.

“Jimmie, trade seats with your sister.” Pat quickly dodged left into the passing lane to avoid the semi that suddenly decided to toss on its breaks, she honked, cussed, threw the finger and all without losing the cigarette clamped between her lips. Or having the speedometer drop below 60. I just clutched the arm rest and quietly said the ‘Hail Mary’. Then she double clutched it, passing everything but a gas station and it’s then I figured a few ‘Our Fathers’ wasn’t a bad idea either.

“Do I have to? She always gets the window.” Jeff was sitting in the Harras pups old car seat next to the other window, so he wasn’t going anywhere. So Rosey was stuck sitting in the middle.

“If you don’t give it to me, I’m gonna throw up on you.” Rosey was already looking a little green around the gills, so Jimmie quickly gave up his seat. 

Needless to say, flying that low, we got to the airport in record time. Took $10 bucks out of my pocket, “here. Take the pups out for Chinese lunch and thanks again for every thing. Really couldn’t have done it without you guys.” Pat tossed her arms around me and was buried face first in her ample bosom.

“Lieutenant, it was a pleasure. Jeff was such a good boy, Rosey and Jimmie loved being with him.” Could see that was true (once Pat released me from boobie prison) in the teary eyed faces of the two pups as they helped Jeff out of his car seat. 

“Rosey sad? Immie sad?” They both nodded. “Kith!” he spread out his arms and planted sloppy puppy kisses on their cheeks. Which of course made them cry all the harder. Didn’t expect this was going to be so difficult, but it was. Especially since I’d said goodbye so many, umpteen times before. But then again, these folks had watched my son, became a part of my life and now it all comes to a screeching halt. Wonder how he’ll react not seeing them any more? Sadly, he better get used to it, if I’m making the army a career, my son better. Got the duffel bags out of the back of the wagon and shouldered them. Hung the diaper bag around my neck and then put Jeff on my hip. “Bye bye Mmmmmm Haaaaa.” Now Patricia was puddling up. 

“Goodbye little one, be good for your papa.” Patricia pressed a kiss to Jeff’s chubby cheek.

“Bye Pat, Rosey....Jimmie. Got your address, will send you a letter once we get settled.” Gave Genevieve a pat, a final wave to the Harras’, turned and then walked into the terminal. Got in line at the Piedmont desk and hoped to hell the line would move. Everything was getting awfully heavy. Should’ve asked Pat for some help but didn’t want to stretch this goodbye out any longer then I had to. The duffel bags were easily 30 pounds each, as that’s the weight each person is allowed for the flight over. Plus the diaper bag plus Jeff who’s prolly about 30 pounds. So, am lugging around 90 pounds of stuff, which not the best thing for a pregnant person, but I’m all I’ve got right now.

Finally made it to the head of the line and dumped off the duffel bags on to the baggage scale, got the boarding pass and went to the gate. From there, boarded the prop job and took off for Washington National where we picked up US Air and 35 minutes later, found out the storm was sending us to Newark, New Jersey. Oh joy.

Rubbed my finger tips in light swirls around my temples, what am I gonna do? Think Novac. Got five hundred dollars on the credit card, two hundred in checking and three hundred in cash and travelers checks. Well, along with 10 D-marks and five marks in fennings left over from the last time I was in Germany. Oh man, what am I gonna do? Okay, will figure it out once we’re on the ground. There has got to be some way to get to McGuire Air Force Base.

Checked the time, it’s 13:12. Okay, still plenty of time until tomorrow mornings flight.

When the plane dipped below the clouds, could see the thick sheets of snow coming down, making it impossible to see much more then the dark outlines of buildings, roads and stands of trees. Hope the plows made a decent attempt at getting the runways clear cuz I don’t feel like having this bird skid off the end of the tarmac. The landing was a bit bumpy, but at least we were on the ground. Now gotta really figure out what to do next.

Rent a car? But then, how would I get it back and would was New Jersey as leery as Virginia about renting to an unacompanied omega? Obviously I can’t wait for Philadelphia to open back up. So, let’s see what’s available in taxi’s or limos. But first, have to get our luggage back. So trooped over to the US Air desk and got in line....a very long line. Jeff was tired and fussy, he should’ve been laid down for a nap hours ago but of course that wasn’t possible. Even the graham crackers held no interest for him and he started to cry. Loudly. Full on open mouth bellar. Quickly blew scent across his nose and thank the Alpha God, the crying was cut off in mid-scream and the surrounding countryside rejoiced.

At least he was one less pup bawling their eyes out. There were several others but their mothers or omegas didn’t do what I did to get their brat to shut up. Shifted him from one shoulder to the other, oh man, he’s getting heavy. Then from hip to hip, now I wish I could start sniveling. But that would be a lousy look for an omega in uniform. Didn’t change clothes from this mornings ceremony, just went straight from Mifflin to the airport. 

Took a while but finally made it up to the counter. “Can I help you,” the harried agent asked. 

“My flight was diverted here when Philadelphia closed. I’d like to take ground transport and need my duffel bags back,” I gave her my name and showed her my ticket.”

“Alright, go to baggage claim, Lieutenant. There’ll be an announcement as to which carrousel will have the luggage from your flight.” She scribbled my name and flight number on a list with other people whose planes had been diverted to Newark. Apparently Wilmington, Delaware, Wilkes-Barre/Scranton, PA and Atlantic City airports were also closed and the flights sent here. “Please be patient, it may take a while.” Wonderful.

Followed the signs to baggage claim and waited. And waited. It took over an hour for them to finally get their collective dance steps together long enough to get the bags to the carousal. Apparently I wasn’t the service member flying that day as there were several duffel bags that came out on this whacked out merry-go-round. Mine? Nope, some jarheads. Mine? Shit, PFC Who-Give-A-Fat-Flying-Fuck. Next, here’s one of mine. Grabbed it off and waited for the other one. After another minute or two, it came round and got it off the conveyor. Now trying to juggle a sleeping pup and the diaper bag as I tried to get the bags onto my shoulders.

“Hey Lieutenant,” a voice said, but I didn’t look up. “Beg pardon, Lieutenant”....oh that’s right....me. Not used to hearing the title in unfamiliar turf. Turned and saw a red cap and his baggage cart standing there. “Need some help?” Oh hell yes. loaded on the two duffles, the diaper bag and then finally Jeff on to the cart. 

Figuring that the red caps would know the best way to get around, “need a flat rate limo or taxi south to McGuire Air Force Base outside of Wrightstown. Got any recommendations?”

“Yellow Cab and Limo,” he said immediately. They go that way all the time. “Usually 40 samolians, but with the weather being what it is, might be closer to 50 or 60.” Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Not today anyway. 

Walked through the automatic sliding doors and was hit by a blast of cold snowy air. Thought I was gonna freaken die. Just had my Class A’s on, my uniform coat along with Johns big wooly mammoth were packed in my duffel, right near the bottom! Jeff was in a light jacket but had on a little sweater that would keep him warmer a little longer. Ulysses on the other hand, didn’t care for this nonsense in the least and it felt like he just about wrapped himself around my spine to get away from the cold.

“Beggen your pardon Lieutenant,” the red cap said as he whistled and pointed at a cabbie who’d screeched his Checker to the curb. “But where’s your alpha? Traveling a lone like this, it ain’t good for an omega, especially when you’re in the family way. With all due respects.”

Some day, nobody is EVER going to question why an omega is traveling alone. But obviously, today is not that day. Why is it always the well meaning alphas who do this? They only seem to have my best interests at heart. Yeah, right, sure and the dog ate my home work. “My alpha is meeting me at McGuire Air Force Base, he was a platoon leader for an MP company at Fort Dix and we’re flying over to Germany together.” Oh yes! Can I still spin a yarn that could knit three pairs of mittens, a sweater and a matching scarf? Made a show of pointing to my mating collar, “and this is real not some ‘fake out’ I’ll have you know my good man.” 

“Seen lots of omegas get in trouble by themselves.” Keep this up dude and your tip will be blowing away like the candy wrappers and other garbage from the parking lot. “Some alphas have problems keep’en themselves in check.”

“I’ve seen that too,” smiled sweetly, remembering those idiots who tried to break into Libbie and my hotel room that night in Petersburg. “And I’ve shot them.” The cabbie strode over and picked the duffels off the baggage cart, lugged them over to the trunk and tossed them in. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m cold, got places to be and a mate who hasn’t seen me in a few weeks.” (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more, say no more.) Hefted Jeff and the diaper box to my shoulder, then handed the red cap a couple of bucks and turned to the cabbie. “Going to McGuire down in Wrightstown. You headed that way?”

“I believe I can be persuaded,” the cabbie said simply. “Costs you nothing but a picture of President Grant.” Ten dollars over what the going rate. Well, he is making the trip in the middle of a blizzard.

“Okay Mr.............?”

“Rossi, Gino Rossi.” He opened the car door and a blast of heat came rolling out. 

“Okay Mr. Rossi, let’s head to Wrightstown.” Climbed in the back seat of the cab and settled myself in for what was gonna be a long trip. In the mean time Jeff woke up; he shook himself a little, blinked like an owl and looked around. 

“Irv.” He stood up on the seat and looked out the back window. “Irv.”

“Don’t I wish.” Sighed and fell back on the well worn bench. Now I’m tired, just so tired. Had been running on nerves the last week and a half, trying to study, then take the test and finally get everything together for the move. Now I know why Naomi-Mom and the Colonel were snappish and more short tempered then usual when he’d came down on orders. They were nervous wrecks and lost all patience when trying to get everything ready for pack up and move. We learned fast to keep mouths shut, eyes open and make ourselves scarce until it was time to go. 

The cab slowly pulled away from the curb, down the access road, through the round about and then made its way toward Route I-95 better known in this neck of the woods as the Jersey Turnpike. We pass by the rail yards, factories and tenements. Now just dark shapes with dots of blue rail cars and red brick buildings. The rest were sooty dark boxes lost in a sheet of white.

When we get to a safe place, I’m gonna drop. Had gotten a letter from Colonel Sam and his mate Jess a couple of weeks ago, who said to give them a call when Jeff and I touched down in Frankfurt. He offered their guest room for a day or two to rest and get rid of the jet lag, course wrote him back and accepted the offer. Also warned him that I might not wake up for that day or two but not to worry. It was just drop.

Hope they still want me as a house guest.

As an older middle aged alpha, Mr Rossi had the radio playing softly, no blaring rock and roll but Dean, Frank and Sammy singing and swaying. Prolly the stuff he and his mate (if the well worn gold ring on his fourth left finger is any indication) danced to in their younger days. The snow was still coming down pretty good, so considering how fast or in this instance, slow we were going, it was going to be a while before we’d see the ‘Welcome to Wrightstown’ sign.

Like a flower bending in the breeze  
Bend with me, sway with ease  
When we dance you have a way with me  
Stay with me, sway with me

Other dancers may be on the floor  
Dear, but my eyes will see only you  
Only you have the magic technique  
When we sway I go weak 

Watched as the city melted into the suburbs, there was other traffic on the road but not a lot of it. Seems like most of New Jersey took a snow day and stayed home. Everyone that is, but Mr Rossi, some snow plows and the semi jack knifed in the median. Hope Boss Tweed is careful on his way back to Hoboken. He had that big gold Caddie packed up and ready to go the minute the class was released for the last time. And the second the word ‘Dismissed’ left Captain Ross’s lips, all you could see was back side of Tweed heading for the exit. 

Now the music changed but stayed the same.

He querido volver a vivir  
La pasion y el calor de otro amor  
De otro amor que me hiciera sentir  
Que me hiciera feliz coma ayer lo fui 

Ah, now that’s the version of ‘Sway’ I knew. The one I remember hearing as a pup in Panama watching the taxi dancers ply their trade in the dance halls, bars and smoky little clubs that lined some of the streets outside of the American forts and canal zone. These were places ‘innocent’ little gringos like me shouldn’t be......but considering I ran the streets with the rest of the pups, got to know them rather well.

Had been holding Jeff’s back to steady him as he stood looking out the back window, but now turned him around, held his hands, swaying to and fro, singing and ‘dancing’ with my little man. 

Ay quien sera la que me quiera a mi?  
Quien sera quine sera?

He seemed to get the idea pretty quick, because he laughed and stamped his little feet to the music. “Papa appy?”

“Papi esta muy feliz,” I sang. “Papa is very happy.”

“Kith!” Oh I’m going to miss this when Jeff decides he too grown up or embarrassed to hug and kiss his papa. So better better get in all that messy loving I can because that day will come too soon. And we ride and ‘dance’ to the music as Mr Rossi takes us further down the wilds of the Jersey Turnpike. 

It was around 17:50 and the snow had tapered off quite a bit when the cab pulls up to the guard shack at the front gate of the McGuire Air Force Base. Mr Rossi rolls down the window and pulls out his drivers license. I get out my orders and military ID from the diaper bag that is now doubling for a briefcase. “Afternoon Airman,” the cabbie said handing over the license. “Just bringing the young L.T. here and his pup over to the base guest house, he’s got a flight to Germany to catch in the morning.” We had talked a little on the way. Found out that Mr Rossi had been in the Army Air Corp during World War Two, a mechanic that kept the Mustangs and Hellcats flying and fighting.

He’d brought home an English beta lady, had a flock of pups and now grandpups. He’d lost his job as maintenance crew chief at the Rheingold brewery when they closed down two years before and started driving hack to make ends meet. Okay, we talked a lot on the way.

The SP came over to the passenger side door motioned for me to roll down the window. He saluted and as I returned the salute Jeff brought up his little hand to his forehead copying the gesture. “Here you are Airman, my orders, flight authorization, service ID and my son’s birth certificate.” The SP went through each bit of paper carefully before handing it back.

“Welcome to McGuire Sir,” the SP gave the directions to the passenger hotel and mentioned that the officers club was a short walk from the hotel. “There’s a shuttle bus running over to the terminal that you’ll need to make arrangements with the desk clerk for a pick up time.”

“Thank you Airman,” and with that, closed the ‘pneumonia hole’. The SP handed Mr Rossi a visitors placard to put on the dash where it could be seen through the windshield. And with a final wave through from the Airman, we cruised slowly forward up McGuire Blvd. The guest house.....excuse me.....passenger hotel...it looked like any other guest house I’d ever seen, was a two story building, prolly slapped together in the 50’s with an attached one story annex off to the side. The cab skidded a little turning into the parking lot but came to a controled stop in front of the main entrance.

“Can I make a suggestion Lieutenant? You might wanna check first before letting me loose, just in case they lost your reservation and the joint is full. Then you’d have to go over to Dix to their guest house.” But from the look on his face, the Fort Dix guest house was prolly something about as desirable as Olson Hall at Fort Benning. Put Jeffs little coat and shoes back on, all of which he’d taken off during the trip. Wiped of the smudges of ketchup (we’d stopped at a McDonalds) with spit and a napkin, then opened the door, settled him on my hip and walked up to the entrance. Damn, it’s still colder then a well diggers ass along the Alaska pipe line.

Came through the glass doors and into a small vestibule. It was neat, clean and didn’t smell like cigarettes or dirty carpet. The young beta lady behind the desk was sitting there reading a romance novel, when she looked up to see us come in. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “Welcome to the Guest Hotel at McGuire. How can I help you?” Her cheery patter never wavered as she checked the reservation book and luckily found my name, not so lucky, the room was on the second floor and there no elevator.

“Could you mind my pup for a moment, while I go out to pay the cabbie and get the bags?” Didn’t wanna take Jeff back out in the cold and this girl looked almost competent enough to keep him out of trouble for at least five minutes. Then checked her name plate, “Ms Suzie.” 

“Sure,” she held out her arms and I passed him over. “Wow, he’s heavy. The cheery voice was strained under the weight.

“He’s a healthy little guy,” I said, quickly turning and heading out the door before she could change her mind. Gino Rossi had gotten out of cab when he saw me come out and give him the high sign. He went to the back of the vehicle, popped the trunk and hefted out the duffle bags. I grabbed the diaper bag out of the back seat, then went for my wallet. Took out a combination of cash and travelers checks. The travelers checks went for the fare and the cash was for a twenty dollar tip that this guy richly deserved to get me down here in a blizzard.

“Here you go Lieutenant,” Mr Rossi helped me shoulder the duffles, after he took the checks and cash and stuffed them in his billfold. “Good luck to ya and that young’n a yours in Germany and here’s my card, should you pass through this way again.” He tucked the business card in the pocket of one of the bags, where it will go next to the ones from Sargeant Jacks and Auggie Jones-the driver from Washington National.

“Thank you Mr. Rossi,” shook his hand. “Safe trip home.” I turned and trudged my way back inside the building to find Jeff sitting on Ms Suzie’s lap engrossed in the romance novel she was reading aloud:

‘But Derek’ Louise begged. ‘You can’t leave me. Not when I’m with pup and your wife has been committed to the insane asylum for her amnesia and violent tendencies.’

Good grief, what is she reading? Dr De Amor? Had lost track of that soapy when I’d gone to jump school but had since caught up on the story lines from The Soap Opera Digests that I’d sneak peeks at while standing in check out lines at the market or the PX. Ms Suzie automaticly handed me the room key and kept on reading aloud:

‘But Darling, I must, Derek said, walking away from Louise, his cowboy boots tapping the tile floor to stare forlornly out of the window to the busy street below that ran in front of the Seattle Mercy Hospital.’

“I’ll be right back down to pay the freight here and collect my pup.” She nodded absently, not even looking up and neither did Jeff as he was glued to the sound of her voice and printed word. Boy, I rate: 

‘As I must leave to find a cure for my wifes amnesia and the thousands suffering like her’ 

Okay, now I gotta find out what she’s reading. ‘Dr Sexy, MD?’ What the fuck kinda name is that for a romance novel? I know these things are cheesy, but that’s the total pits! With writing like that, who wrote this hunka baloney.....Ima Trickster? Don’t give your day job is Ima old girl. Because with writing like that, you’re gonna need it. Besides, it’s a total ripoff of Dr D Amour, MD. With that, I turned and trudged over to the stairwell, gripping the hand rails, put a foot on the first step and heaved. 60 pounds of luggage and 3 or 4 pounds of pup butted up against ones lungs makes for a slow torturous slog. Blew and puffed, saw stars and black spots, along with having to stop from time to time to catch my breath. At least there was no smart alecky Major at the top the stairs asking me if I was out of shape. The assbutt. 

Speaking of, poor Caroline. She looked so miserable this morning......Christ, was that only this morning? Damn, it’s amazing where the day takes you. Anywho, maybe I should have told her that Jim Otis was not the dream boat she thought he was. That he was nothing but a rat bastard. Nah, might as well leave her a good memory and let her be happy in her misery.

Finally made it to the top of the stairs and into the hall way. The key fob said 24 and after one wrong turn, found it in short order. Stuck the key in the lock and let the door swing open. Felt around for the light switch, there and the over head light came on to reveal a cinder block room painted a now faded yellow, with two single beds, night table, a desk, an overstuffed chair and a door that obviously lead to the bath. It wasn’t great, but for one night and fifteen bucks, the room was perfect. Gratefully dropped the bags on the floor and flopped on the bed for moment. Do I have to get up? Yeah, have to go rescue my son from bad writing. 

Went back downstairs to collect Jeff and hopefully he isn’t so engrossed in that trashy novel that I won’t have to buy a copy:

‘Are you like those cowboys in the old movies? Nurse Carol purred seductively, as she loosed the top button of her uniform. “You gonna die with your boots on?”

Okay, my son dosn’t need to know that. “Okay, I have the $15 dollars for the room tonight. What do I sign? Come on Jeffy, Papa needs to get you changed and something for supper.” Plucked him from Ms Suzies lap. “Thank you so much for watching him, you were so kind.”

Ms Suzie grinned as she took the travelers check and gave me back the change. “No problem. He really liked the story.” Oh Alpha God, I hope not. Also made arrangements for the shuttle bus to pick us up tomorrow morning at 04:00 AM to get over to the terminal for check in. Ugh, that means getting up at ‘oh dark 30’ to be ready to go. Took Jeff upstairs, got him changed, sure you could hold it for Ms Suzie but half way up the stairs you filled that diaper to the gunnels. So, got to test out the shower, damn if those zoomies don’t have all the good stuff. The water was hot and there was plenty of it. 

Just stood there in the stream while Jeff sat on the floor of the shower and splashed. It was the warmest I’ve been all day, even through it was comfortable for the taxi ride down here, was still not warm enough. Guess my body was doing it’s best to keep Ulysses cooking away and I kinda got left out of the picture. Watched my belly bow out when the outline of the bottom of a tiny foot appeared against the skin. “Hi there kiddo.” Tickled the little foot. “Not much longer now. Just three months and you’ll be here.” And then I’ll have to give you up to Jenny and Lewiston for the next ten years. But right now, is that the better thing? I’m just a second lieutenant with limited funds (won’t have access to that money in the savings account for the next couple of years) even with help from my alphas. 

Then there’s the time issue. Will have crazy hours for the first few months or year, there’ll be alerts that will be send me to the field for days or weeks on end, this will be hard enough with just one pup, let alone two. Jenny, even with Sir Winnie, will have the time and resources to properly care for our son. But in 10 years should have the money and better hours either in or out of the military so hopefully that when Ulysses comes to live with us, it’ll be a snap. Ten years, that would be 1989, nothing should be going on.....hopefully. 

About that time, my gut makes a rumble. Hungry. Very hungry. Only had that one little cheese burger earlier today and now I’ve calmed down enough that both my stomach and Ulysses are reminding me its time to throw some groceries down my gullet. “Irv Papa! Irv!” Oops. Looks like Jeff is thirding that motion. Turn off the water, step out of the shower, grab a towel and corral my little man. Kiss his chubby cheeks and blow raspberries into his belly. Jeff laughs with his whole self, kicking, waving his arms and wiggling like an eel.

Caught sight of myself in the foggy mirror on the back of the door. Big as a barn pregnant, stretch marks, spider veins and holding a squirming pup. Sigh, a picture out of some happy sappy romance...oh who am I kidding? Mine would be written by Jack Douglas. Something like the ‘Jewish-Japanese Sex and Cookbook and How to Raise Wolves’ meets The Officers Guide’. All that’s missing from this picture is the big strong alpha standing in the back ground. Well, we’ll see what happens once we hit dirt in Germany, if there will be that big strong alpha in my future. But here in the present, let’s get dry and something to eat.

The officers club was just a block up from the guest hotel, but still it was a rather cold walk over there. But this time had pulled out Johns great wool coat and the Doctor Who scarf from the bottom of the duffel so wouldn’t be icicle tits again. The dining room required a tie or a uniform, so I went to the bar for some pub grub. Found table in the corner and had a look at the menu. Standard bar food, will get some mac and cheese for Jeff and I’ll have the BLT.

Checked out the room as I waited for the waitress to come; there was dark wood paneling, pictures of fighter jets, C-5 Galaxys and bi-planes on the walls and a bar that went the length of one side of the room. There were a few people there, folks having dinner or a drink, no one looking my way, which was fine by me. The Budweiser clock over the bar showed 20:00, am not going to get much sleep tonight, especially if we have to be up by three to be out the door by four for wheels up by five. Maybe I’ll just get our dinner to go and eat back at the room.

Which is exactly what I did when the waitress came over. She took our order to go but in the mean time, some hot chocolate would be nice. The woman scribbled the info on the guest check and went to drop it off in the kitchen then get the drinks. “Tomorrow this time, we’ll be in Germany.” told Jeff as I bounced him on my knees. “You’ll see your Dada, Uncle?...Other dada?....Da-Dean?...”(Oh close enough for government work)” and Colonel Sammy and all the other pups.” Oh this is going to make holiday get togethers interesting, considering Lisa and Mary hate my guts.

The waitress came back shortly with steaming mugs of coco. Took a careful sip of mine. Mmmm, nice. Warmed me right down to the toes. Blew on Jeffs to cool it and held the mug as he took little tastes. Chocolate was probably not the best idea at this time of night, but my little man is tired enough and the warmth just might get him to sleep anyway. 

In Johns last letter, he’d written that an old friend who’d ‘homesteaded’ in the K-town area had a mate would, for the right price, watch Jeff while I was at work. Apparently he’d been soften up to the idea with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue (nice taste in booze there fella) and the promises that Jeff was well behaved. Or at least most of the time. The guys name was Rufus Turner and he’ll expect to hear from me any time before the 29th of the month.

“Here you are sir,” the waitress returned with the bill and a paper bag with our food in it. Seven bucks for the sandwich, mac and cheese and the hot chocolate plus tip. Set Jeff on the table, leaned him against my chest and buttoned him up in the great coat, then grabbed the bag and headed to the door. His little head was poking up out of the neck of his daddys gift to keep him warm in and outside of the womb. It hadn’t been too long ago when he was a tiny (relatively speaking)and I was carrying him to class with me. Nuzzled his dark soft hair, “don’t grow up so fast, baby mine. Stay little a while longer.”  
.  
Waved at Ms Suzie as we walked by the front desk, she looked up long enough from that ‘Dr Sexy MD’ (still the stupidest name ever) novel, to give a quick smile and wave. Huffed and puffed my way up the stairs and to room 24. Now just wanna eat and try to get a little sleep because I know I won’t be getting much of it. Too many nerves and too afraid of missing that flight. Last time when I flew ‘Uncle Sam’s Airlines’ had been when I’d come back from finishing school. Took a hop from Croughton AFB outside of London to some place in Greenland I couldn’t pronounce, which from the looks of the joint, you ended up there because you royally pissed someone off. Then caught the C-130 to the National Guard Base outside of Schenectady, New York.

This time, from what the transportation officer said, it would be a charter jet from TWA. Okay, that’s better then sitting in the little passenger drop seats behind the cockpit of a Herky-bird with cotton in your ear s to drown out the roar of the engines. 

Ate the sandwich with one hand and spooned noodles down Jeffs open mouth with the other. Thank the Alpha God this pup wasn’t a fussy eater. He ate up his portion and then gnawed on a couple of tomato slices from the BLT. Okay, now lets get ready for bed. Brushed his few teeth, slapped on a new diaper and lay him down. Then pulled out the clothes the both of us would be wearing tomorrow. Big comfortable sweater that wouldn’t show the spit up, jeans with the elastic waist and loafers. Also grandma underwear with a sanitary napkin, just in case I can’t move fast enough to get to the lavatory on the plane.

For Jeff, it was the courtroy overalls with the snaps on the inside of the legs. Easy on, easy off. Along with enough diapers to last an 8 to 9 hour flight. Then ticked off on my fingers, if the flight left at 05:00 AM, we’d get into Frankfurt about 13:00, but add six hours for the time zone change, so it would be more like 19:00 or more. Yeeesh. 

Opened up the diaper bag and checked the contents. Diapers, wipes, puppy powder, Vasaline....all there. Also in there, was the safe box. Birth certificates, travel orders, passport and all the rest of the documentation showing Jeff is legally mine, I’m mated and emancipated....yup, all there. Mating collars, jewelry and the ‘paper wieght’. Check. The ‘flower frog, I didn’t want to take a chance with going through German customs. So, I wrapped it up carefully and put it in a box with some other household goods that I pre-packed to be shipped to Germany. Naomi-Mom would kill me if something happens to that thing but again didn’t want some sharp eyed ‘Herman’ seeing it and on the off chance knowing no flower frog was EVER made by Van Cleef and Arpels. 

Got everything set, brushed my teeth and finally sat down on the bed, tipped my head back and prayed. “Please Holy Alpha Father, give me strength for tomorrow. To get me through those hours of trials and tribulations. But not only for me but the sake of others on that flight....PLEASE let Jeff behave.” And with that, crawled into bed, turned off the light and tried to get some sleep. Except I kept waking up to check the bedside clock.

At about a quarter to three, I gave up and got up. Went into the bath for a quick shit, shower and shave. Ulysses didn’t care much for this early morning shit and was as busy as a one legged man in a ass kicking contest. He booted, punched and threw a tantrum. Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh come on! What do I have to do?! Call in Dr Spock or exorcist? (We have your mother Father Karras. Sorry, no I’m not.) Got dressed, snapped on the brass mating collar, got everything repacked, then got a sleeping Jeff dressed. Want to leave the little guy sleeping as long as possible before having to wake him up.

A few minutes before four began the process of getting everything downstairs. Diaper bag around my neck, duffles on each shoulder and then a sleeping Jeff inside Johns great coat. Oh crap, this is really heavy. Just have to make it down those stairs and to the vestibule where I can sit down in one of the chairs. Well, looks like everyone else had the same idea, because there were at least three other families crowded in that small room waiting for the bus. The 10 or 11 pups of various ages were letting everyone know that none of them were too happy to be up this early.

The litany of discontent filled the room.... “I’m tired, I’m hungry, do we have ta go, I hate this place, sit on it you spaz, I gotta go, he’s touching me....” You could tell most of these parents were desperately trying to keep their tempers. Oh man, does this take me back. If any Novac pup sounded off like that, Naomi-Mom and the Colonel, they would’ve back handed us into the middle of next week not caring who saw it. Then came a loud voice, “knock it off and quit your crying or I’ll give ya something to cry for.” Well that shut everyone up whether the E-8 intended that or nor.

That of course woke up Jeff, who looked a bit cranky at being commanded awake so forcefully. He cocked his little head and said in a loud and rather defiant tone: ‘Irv!” Then showed his teeth. Oh dear alpha God, this was like a sparrow challenging a hawk. The E-8 turned slowly, looking to see what brainless pup dared to say this. Imagine his surprise when he saw me and then Jeff, his head poking out of the top of the great coat.

The NCO, sniffed, then strode over. “Yours huh?” Jeff bunny growled at him. “Pup has moxie. Prolly too much for his own good.”

“Or just enough,” I smiled sweetly. “Sargeant.” Course it clicked, (never let it be said this guy wasn’t sharp) pregnant omega with the bad military haircut holding pup equals officer and mate of an officer probably someone older with interesting hardware on their shoulders. So before he could say anything one way or the other, someone called out, “hey the bus is here!” And before the pissing contest could begin, it ended.

The McGuire Air Terminal looked almost like any other small airport, only without the rent a car and airline desks. There was one long counter where we went to show our orders and ID’s for those of us being assigned to US Army Europe, then came the standbys who were on vacation and taking a hop. At that time also, paid the $3.00 for a box lunch that would be handed out somewhere over the Atlantic. Outrageous price for a baloney sandwich, plastic bag of potato chips, can of soda and little can of fruit cocktail. But beggars can’t be choosers 

Speaking of, didn’t have any breakfast yet and everybody was hungry. There were a few vending  
machines in the corner, so got a Mars bar, can of ginger ale and a couple packages of cheese and peanut butter crackers. Breakfast of champions. Jesus, I’d kill for a cup of coffee and a cigarette. 

True to form when dealing with the military, it was hurry up and wait. The flight wasn’t called for boarding until almost 05:30 because the runways were still being cleared. Another squall had passed through during the night and dropped another 6 inches of snow. So, that had to cleaned off. Then the wings of the Boeing 707 de-iced and that took a while. Then there was boarding, with that, the flight didn’t take off until shortly after 06:00. So the earliest we’d get into Frankfurt was (finger calculator please) was a little around 20:00. Wonderful and not in the good way.

As the stewardess were walking up and down the aisle, over heard one of the guys in the seat in front of me talking to his mate: “haven’t seen such ugly stewardess’s since the last time I flew out of Tan Son Nhut.” Clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing but not soon enough. The guy turned in his seat and winked. Had heard similar stories and one from Dean about flying into Nam, that the closer you got Tan Son Nhut Airbase the uglier the stewardess became. These were women who had the guts to fly into an active war zone but not the looks to fly the regular routes. 13 months later, if you weren’t in the cargo hold of the ‘freedom bird’, then you noticed the farther away you got from the shit, the prettier the stewardess were. Till they were down right gorgeous coming out of Honolulu to San Francisco. 

The pilots didn’t do the ‘welcome to flight so and so and such and such.’ This was a charter, so the only announcements were from the stewardesses who did the safety briefing thing and that they would bring out the drink cart in a while. No alcoholic beverages would be served aboard this flight. Which is fine, there’s probably enough people who’d brought their own hooch, so they would be totally plastered by the time we’d get halfway across the Atlantic.

Jeff got his own seat thank the Alpha God because I couldn’t imagine trying to hold him for the next eight hours. So now the plane was in the air. Couldn’t believe it! I’m on my way to Germany! Finally, after all this time, waiting around, going to jump school, then officers basic, life if finally going to begin!

The excitement of the whole adventure wore off after an hour. Geez, now I remember how boring this was. Also why Gabe and I were forever in trouble, whether it was aboard a ship or airplane. The ship stewards wanted to throw the Novac pups to the sharks, except Naomi-Mom always said ‘don’t bother, the sharks would throw us back’. The stewardess’s on the other hand, would always ask us to go play outside. To which we’d show our teeth and say: ‘there’s a thing on the wing’. “Jeff, if you EVER do even a quarter of the things I did,” tussled his hair. “Will ground you for the rest of your natural life.” 

He looked up at me with those big green eyes and ‘dimples of death’, “wuv oo Papa!”

Oh you little rat. That’s not fair. “Wuv oo too.” Course, that’s when the green fumes started to creep out of his diaper. Note to self, NEVER give this pup vending machine cheese and crackers. Drug him back to the lavatory, oh man, will have to be a contortionist to do this. Sat down on the toilet, put him in the sink and put the diaper bag down at my feet. Took a little finagling but got the overalls up around his neck, dirty diaper off, his ass washed and a new diaper put on. “There, that should hold you for a while......I hope.”

Side stepping back up the aisle, was holding Jeff in a way that I thought wouldn’t bump anyone and it was working right up until he swung a leg up and kicked a female Spec 4 in the back of her head. “OW!” She turned and stood up to see who did it to let em have it. 

“I’m so sorry, are you alright”...........this girl looked familiar......wait a minute. “Eismann?” She immediately had the expression I’d seen a million times over the years. The one that said: ‘do I know you, how and did I loan you money?’ “Fort Benning....jump school...Lt Novac?” Then the dime fell.

“Lieutenant. Hello Sir, how are you?” We would’ve shaken hands if she wasn’t rubbing the bump on the back of her head. Flagged down a stewardess to bring some ice in a plastic baggie. “This is your son? He’s cute and big.” And landed those hard little Buster Browns on her head. Then her eyes fell to my belly. “When are you due?”

“I’m a little over six months.” Patted my stomach, “Am due in April.”

“Cool. Where are you bound for?”

“K-town to the Quartermaster HQ. How about you?”

“Vicenza, in Italy. Gonna join the ‘gingerbread men’ to be a rigger for the 509th Infantry, Airborne Battalion Combat Team, combat support company.” Woof, that’s a mouthful. “Flying into Frankfurt and then take a puddle jumper down to Vicenza.”

“That’s great.” Well, conversation kind stalled after that. I’m an officer, hence ‘the other’ and oh well, that’s the nature of the beast. “Wonderful to see you again. Sorry about the kick in the head.”

“No problem,” Eismann pressed the baggie to her head. “Just good to see you again Sir and to meet your pup finally.”

A couple of hours later, the lunch boxes were toted out. Yup, they were as bad as I remembered. Bread that was just this side of stale, cheap ass baloney, C-ration fruit cocktail and oooooo, Fritos. Jeff was able to eat the fruit but the sandwich was still a little out of his pay grade. So took him off to the lavatory again only this time to nurse. Which he was rather happy to do. Had been trying to wean him off the tit but the more I tried, the more situations keep popping up where nursing was the only option. So there it is sports fans, mind the teeth there Sunshine.

Jeff draped himself across my stomach, suckling and smacking his lips as the milk filled that pudgy belly. Ulysses pressed himself up against my skin to cuddle with his bond brother. Rocked them to and fro, singing to my boys. “I love you, a bushel and a peck. A bushel and a peck and hug around the neck.” These were the moments I wished John, Lewiston or Dean could see. They’d just bust with pride to see their family and bond. Okay, simmer down Novac. That moment is coming. Just have to make it through the next, checked the ‘Sunday off to the jungle’ watch.....oh shit....four and a half hours.

After leaving the crapper, went back to our seats to settle in for the rest of the ride. Desperately wanted to slip my shoes off to get comfortable but knew better. Had watched enough people over the years try to push their swollen feet back into their shoes because they’d taken them off during a long flight. Buckled Jeff into his seat so he wasn’t going anywhere (cross my fingers) and figured I’d just close my eyes for a minute, as I didn’t get much sleep last night. And of course, you guessed it, the angels had other ideas about that:

 

“Capt Novac,” the alpha dude sitting behind the desk looked at me expectantly. The name plate on that desk read ‘Jerry Steele-Principal’ and for a moment I looked around fearfully for Zachariah but suddenly realized, I wasn’t the one sent to the principals office for whatever offense I was dumb enough to get caught for. I’m the parent! Oh, okay, can deal with this. “We’re sorry to have to call you in but your son Jeffery caused a fight and injuries to other students.” Okay maybe not.

“But it’s only the first day of school and he’s in kindergarten! Nobody gets in trouble that fast!.” Then had to stop. Jeff is a Novac and a Winchester. Oh yeah, he could get in trouble that fast. “My son is sweet little boy, who’d never do that.” 

The principal had that patented look of any school administrator dealing with a parent who insisted their pup would NEVER do anything wrong. Except for the ones dealing with Naomi-Mom, then it ranged from resignation to object horror. Mr Steele picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and adjusted his glasses. “Apparently, he got into an altercation on the play ground with three other boys.” These guys ganged up on my son! Where are they? I’ll murd-lize the little bums! “Where’s my son?! Is he hurt? Why didn’t anyone stop those boys?”

“Jeffery is with the vice-principal, the other boys are in the nurses office. Black eyes, bloody noses, one pup has a chipped front tooth, bumps and bruises, another suffered groin contusion and the third....” Even Mr Steele was impressed...“had to be taken down from a tree where he was tossed.” THAT’S MY BOY! Taught him to give as good as he got only more so.

“I want to speak with Jeff, want to hear his side for the story.” Mr Steele nodded, picked up the phone and asked the secretary to bring in my son. Jeff came through the door a few minutes later, his clothes were dirty, shirt pocket ripped and hanging down his front. His face was tear streaked and smudged with grass stains. 

“PAPA!” He ran into my arms and started crying. “I’m sorry Papa, I’m sorry. But I had to. I just had to. Those guys said mean things about you.”

“There, there.” I soothed and pulled him on to my lap. He set his head on my shoulder, crying and snotting on my uniform. “Now tell me what happened. And no lies, you know I can tell when you’re lying Your eyes shine.” 

“Okay,” he wiped the tears on the back of his sleeve. “Miss Chickadee our teacher let us out to go outside to play....”

“Wait, your teacher is Miss Chickadee?”

“Uh huh.”

“Great-grand dad got around.” Shook myself, “sorry go on.”

“I was telling Jordan and Kyle how I live at the arsenal, that you’re in the army and daddy is a bossy at Fora Bragg. These big boys heard me talking and said I was fibbing cuz you couldn’t be army cuz you’re an omega and omegas can’t do stuff like that cuz they’re too stoopid and....” he was trying to wrap his mouth around the word.....“and a prostate-toot.”

Wait? What! Omegas are a what?! And these older pups were ragging my son because of it?! Turned an evil eye to the principal, a growl coming deep in my throat. “What is going on in this joint? What grade are these other pups in?”

Mr Steel looked at the paper again, “they’re in second grade. Wait. That can’t be right.” Then he called in the secretary to cross check the names. She came in looked at the list and said “these boys are in Miss Powells second grade class. Their parents are on the way in by the way.” 

“You damn betcha, that’s not right.” Now I was getting hot under the collar. “ Big pups ganging up on my boy. They deserved the ass whipping they got. And yeah, I wanna word with their parents.” Turned to Jeff, “did Jordan and Kyle get in the fight too?”

“Uh uh.” He shook his head. “They were a scared and ran. I did what you, Daddy, Unca Sammy and Da-Dean taught me. Kick the sons a bitches in the nuts, smash their faces on your knee and punch em in the gut.” He looked very proud, “and then put one of em in a tree like Unca Gabe showed me.” Thought that move sounded familiar.

I kissed the top of his head, “you’re a good boy, you’re daddys little bull and I’m proud of you.” About that time one of the mothers of the other boys stormed into Mr Steeles office. She was an angry beta woman who looked like she was used to bullying her way in and out of this mans office. 

“Who’s the monster who did this to my son?” She hauled her pup to the forefront. Black eye, bloody nose and leaves in his hair. Good job son! “I want him expelled! I want him arrested! I want him....”

“I want you to shut the fuck up lady.” Came out of the chair, stood to my full height plus an inch or two for indignation, looking down at her like an avenging angel. “Your brat and his buddies decided to pick on a kindergartener. Too bad for them, he was the wrong guy to pick on.” 

Jeff looked over at the other boy, “see. I told you my papa is in the army......”

 

Woke up when I bruised my knuckles punching the seat in front of me. “Sorry,” apologized to the guy as he turned to look at me after I kinda sorta almost knocked him outa his seat. “Bad dream,” not really. Duked out some numbnutz who called me a ‘mega whore’. Whore this, jackass.

“No problem Sir,” the guy said. “I still come up swinging too. The pups are real careful waking me up from naps.” Dear Alpha God, will there ever come a time when Jeff and Ulysses(can’t forget Claire and Ephraim-Jesus Christ! Why are you doing this to me angels?!) will be afraid to wake me from sleep? If these dreams are anything to go by, there’s a cubic fuck-ton of shit just waiting on the other side of the hill. 

Checked my watch, we’d been in the air for about five hours. Another three to four to go. Looked over and Jeff has gotten the seat beat unlatched and was climbing down. Guess he wanted to join the other pups running up and down the aisle. “Oh no you don’t,” I pulled him back into the seat. “You’re not gonna be running around like a bunch of wild indians.....oh crap.” In the grand pantheon of ‘things I will never say when I have pups’.....yeah that’s a big one. Along with:

1\. If so and so jumped off the (put name of local span here) bridge, would you?  
2\. Just because so and so’s mother said they could doesn’t mean I have to  
3\. Turn that music down! It’s too loud!  
4\. I swear if you ever do that again I’ll.....(name of punishment here)

Naomi-Mom would bust a gut if she could hear me now. Course in the mean time, Jeff had gotten his seat belt off again and was toddling off after the other guys. “IRV!” Well least I know where to find the little devil. Hefted myself up to go catch him....Ulysses kicked and...oh shit, now I gotta go pee. Side stepped my way down the aisle, trying not to slap everyone in the face with my belly. Some folks looked annoyed while there was an alpha or two that wouldn’t have minded that happening again.

Okay, got in the lav and of course, just peed a few drops. Oh man, this sucks canal water vigorously. Came out the door and course that’s when I hear son scream “NO! BAD!” and the deafening bellars of other unhappy pups. Jeffery George Hugh Ashton Benjamin (after Ben, not Benny. Still a little miffed at him) Winchester! What have you done?! Oh get the sinking feeling I’ll yelling that a lot in the coming years. Found my son and another little boy on either side of a ‘Stretch Armstrong’ yanking for all their worth, then there was another pup just standing there just howling. Boy was Stretch living up to his name. The other pup’s mother was there trying to get her son to let go. “I’m really sorry,” braced my knees against the seats to bend over and pry Jeff’s fingers off the doll...action figure...girls play with dolls, boys have action figures “He’s got one of these things too, but it was packed up with the rest of his toys. Come on Sport, let go.”

The other mom looked a little puzzled, “I thought this was your son’s doll.” Course that’s when the true owner let loose an ear splitting screech which brought their mother running. Everything was sorted out in the end and there was peace in the valley for at least five seconds until someone else found something to cause a ruckus over. I hate flying. 

In the end, pulled out ‘Last of the Mohicans’, found the waterfall chapter, which was easy as the pages were worn and taped back into the book and read aloud.

‘The ingenuous Alice gazed at his free air and proud carriage, as should would ave looked upon some precious relic of the Grecian chisel, to which life had been imparted by the intervention of a miracle; while Heyward, though accustomed to see the perfection of form which abounds among the uncorrupted natives, openly expressed is admiration at such an unblemished specimen of the noblest proportions of man.’

Oooo, sounds like everybody gots the hots for Uncas.

Kept reading until when I paused to turn the page, could hear Jeff snoring. Boy that pup could saw logs. Was about to close the pages and put away the book when the guy in front of me turned around. “Mind finishing the chapter? Wanted to hear how it turned out.” Since there was only about six pages left, I started again until the final paragraph:

‘Duncan ceased speaking; for while his eyes were way on those of Alice, who had turned toward him with the eagerness of filial affection, to catch his words, the same strong, horrid cry, as before, filled the air and rendered him mute. A long breathless silence succeeded, during which each looked a the other in fearful expection a of hearing the sound repeated. At length, the blanket was slowly raised, and the scout stood in the aperture with a countenance whose firmness evidently began to give way before a mystery that seemed to threaten some danger against which all his cunning and experience might prove of no avail.’

“Damn,” the guy said as his breath let out in one long gasp. “I gotta find me a copy of that.”

For the next three hours, I read, dozed and tried to keep Jeff from melting down, when the pilot came on the overhead speaker. “We’re starting our descent into German airspace and should be landing at Frankfurt International Airport in about 45 minutes. We ask that you police up the area around you and the stewardess’s will be around with trash bags shortly. Kindly have your passports, military ids, birth certificates available as you do not want to be held up at Immigration. The West German Government can get very particular about who or what is allowed into their country. We will be deplaning at Terminal Mitte. You will follow the signs with the word Gepäkausgabe on it to collect your luggage, afterward you will go through Customs. I’m sure you have been briefed on what you can and can not bring into country. If it’s illegal, get rid of it before hitting Customs because the inspectors will find it.”

That’s a big 10-4. Had seen people pulled out of line and never seen again by the ‘knuckle draggers’ on both sides of the Atlantic for shit that they should’ve known better then to try and bring in country. ‘Dad had helped me get the paperwork to bring ‘The Lovers Kiss’ and ‘Snubby’ legally into Germany, as I was not about to leave them behind. Idiots abound worldwide and I was not going unarmed into it. So little time, so many assbutts that need to get shot.

The captain had a few more words of wisdom and then closed with: “for those of you who want to set your watches, local time is now 20:15.”

“Come on Jeff, get your shoes and socks on.” The pup had sent his Buster Browns down the aisle several times during the last few hours. I’m tired, even with the nap and dozing, it wasn’t enough. Am on my last nerve and just want the pup to sit down, shut up and get ready to move when that door open. I’m not the only parent headed toward Defcon 5, could hear threats of death, destruction and being grounded till they’re 60 tossed around along with every calls to put on shoes, shirts and pants. Oh man, someone had gotten way too comfortable.

Buckled in, put the tray in the upright position, it was now just a matter of waiting. Could feel my heart beating faster with each passing moment. The tiredness that was pulling me under was now gone and the excitement of my life starting was taking hold. I’m back in Deutschland and tamp down the urge to find a candy truck, grab a handful of lemon slices and run like hell. Oh come on, I’m an adult now, I have money, Gabe isn’t egging me on and..... and I’m an adult by the Alpha God! Kinda sorta.

Could feel the plane slow, the whine and crunch of the landing gear coming down along with the tug of the wing flaps as they lowered to slow our decent. Looked out into the night time land scape, seeing the lights of Mainz, Bischofhsheim and then neat row of runway lights of the flughafen. There was the thump and scream of tires as the plane hit the runway, bouncing as the afterburners roared and the bird raced to the finish line, before slowing to a more sedate speed. “Ladies and gentleman,” the pilot came on again. “Welcome to Frankfurt, West Germany.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flying the Friendly Skies: a take on the United Airlines 1970’s tag line ‘Fly the Friendly Skies’
> 
> And yes, there really was a blizzard on the 17th of January 1978. 
> 
> To get an idea of what Genevieve looked like go to http://blog.consumerguide.com/the-5-most-expensive-american-wagons-of-1974/
> 
> Samolians: American slang for dollars that first entered the lexicon in 1898 and has hung around ever since. Where it came from.....nobody is really sure.
> 
> ¿Quién será?" (Who Will It Be?) is a bolero-mambo written by Mexican composer Luis Demetrio, who sold the rights to fellow songwriter Pablo Beltrán Ruiz. Beltrán recorded the song for the first time with his orchestra in 1953. The English version, "Sway", with lyrics by Norman Gimbel has become a standard in both the pop and jazz repertoire. The first version to achieve considerable success in the United States was recorded by singer Dean Martin with the Dick Stabile orchestra in 1954 -Wikipedia
> 
> Hopefully this is the close enough translation to a few stanzas of Quien sera in the story. If not, let me know and I’ll get it fixed.
> 
>  
> 
> I wanted to live again  
> The passion and the warmth of another love  
> Of another love that made me feel  
> That made me happy yesterday I was 
> 
> Oh who will be the one who loves me?  
> Who will be what will be
> 
> Rheingold Beer: from the 50’s to the 70’s, Rheingold was a very popular beer in the New York, New Jersey area. There had been a brewery in Newark until 1977 when the plant closed. When the rubble from the World Trade Center terror attacks was being cleaned up, a lot of Rheingold cans were found. Apparently the construction workers who’d built the towers had brought the beers with them, drank while working and then tucked the cans between the beams. For those of us old enough to remember (sigh) here’s the jingle:
> 
> My beer is Rheingold, the dry beer.  
> Think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer.  
> It's not bitter, not sweet; it's the dry flavored treat.  
> Won't you try extra dry Rheingold beer?[ 
> 
> Soap Opera Digest is a weekly magazine covering American daytime soap operas. It features onscreen and offscreen news about the series, interviews with and articles about performers, storyline summaries and analysis, and related promotional information. Founded in 1975, the magazine has historically included certain prime time soap operas in its coverage as well. - Wikipedia In their archives of course are stories about our favorite soap star turned Winchester...Jensen Ackeles
> 
> Die with your boots on" is an idiom referring to dying while fighting or to die while actively occupied/employed/working or in the middle of some action. -Wikipedia
> 
> The ‘Gingerbread Men’: the insigna of the 509th Infantry has a little guy on it that looks like the cookie.
> 
> A Bushel and a Peck a song written by Frank Loesser and published in 1950. The song was introduced in the Broadway musical Guys and Dolls, -Wikipedia
> 
> That is from Chapter 6 of Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper
> 
> Gepäkausgabe: German for baggage claim
> 
> Flughafen: German for airport


	2. Das Lied der Deutschen  (Song of the Germans)

Welcome back. Well we made it folks. We're in West Germany. Thanks for everyones' kind comments.

 

“Your papers please,” it took everything I had to keep from cracking up laughing at the Immigrations official. He sounded like every Nazi villain in all the old movies I’d ever seen on the late late shows. Geeze, I really need to keep my shit together. All I wanna do, is get through this line, so we can get our duffel bags to be able stand in the next line. Thank the Alpha God, the dude didn’t actually look like the stereotypical tall, blonde and squared jawed Wehrmacht recruiting poster (he was actually a short beta guy in his 30’s, moon faced with a tan that let folks know he’d just came off holiday in Sardinia. Just a guess mind you.) reallywoulda lost my shit if he had.

No, I just wanted to keep moving. Stay under the radar, not an easy thing in a country where omegas were still rare, even after 30 years. To a lot of Germans, an omega was an uncomfortable reminder of the dark days after the war, when the citizenry had to face up to the deeds of their leadership. Deeds a lot of people had a direct or indirect hand in. So they moved us along quickly, efficiently, so we could take their guilt along with us. “I vus just following orders.” Okay gotta think of something else...

There I was at the immigration scene  
Shining and feeling clean  
Could it be a sin?  
I got stopped by the immigration man  
He says he doesn’t know if he can  
Let me in......

Oh that’s worse. Okay, think of something else. Nope, got the song stuck in my head. Was trying to think of the Rhinegold jingle.... ‘my beer is Rhinegold the dry......’ When I got a nudge from behind, oh it’s my turn. 

“Papers please,” put on my most bland tourist face, as I pulled the paper work out of the diaper bag. Knew better then to try and smile, or frown or anything thing that could say friendly or impatient. Nope they look for that shit and get suspicious. Our passports, military id, mating contract, emancipation papers, Jeff’s and my birth certificate, shoe size, mothers maiden name and library card. I’m kidding about the mothers maiden and shoe size. Not so much the library card, that somehow got mixed in. The one that got their attention were the papers allowing ‘Snubby’ and ‘The Lovers Kiss’ in country.

I don’t know what he looked harder at, the library card trying to pronounce Schenectady (skin-neck-titty) or the forms for the weapons. The dude went through every line, checked every seal and glowered at all the signatures. Finally, he stamped our passports and handed everything back. “Welcome to Germany.”

“Danke, guter Herr Inspektor” Ewww, that hurt my ears. Okay, I’m a little rusty on the conversational level, other then how to turn mein General on. Oh come on Novac, you can do better then this. So let’s try this again: “Haben Sie vielen Dank.”

His eyebrow raised, “bitte.” (You’re welcome) 

Since most American concerns here are in Bavaria, heard this one a lot. “Vergelt’s Gott,”or ‘may God reward you for it’. They’re heavy duty Catholic down there in German ‘Ya’ll Country’, so God, the Holy Mother and the saints get tossed into the common speech a lot. Even got the northern Bavarian accent down pat too.

Slung the diaper bag over the right shoulder and Jeff left shoulder arms. He was clinging to my great coat chattering like a monkey at the sights and sounds of the Frankfurt airport. Took stock of where we were, okay it’s Concourse A and baggage is....follow the signs. “Okay Pup, let’s get our duffels, get through Customs and find a phone booth. If they’re the same as I remember, they shouldn’t hard to spot”, as they’re this bright mustard yellow with the symbol of a postal horn and the words Deutsche Bundespost on the side. Wonder how much a call is these days?

Walked down the corridor with the rest of the crowd and made it to baggage claim. Well knock me over with a feather, there’s our luggage on the carousal. I do love German efficiency when it’s not being a pain in the ass. Got Jeff riding piggyback, the diaper bag around my neck, then got the duffels over each shoulder. Oh dear Alpha God, this fucking heavy! And not a baggage trolley or a red cap in sight. I can do this, not for long, but I can make it to Customs, if it’s not too far. 

About halfway there, noticed someone had left a baggage cart sitting out in front of the mens room, with no baggage on it, the guy must have taken in with him. “Oh look Jeffy,” I said in a loud mock voice . “An abandoned cart! How lucky for us!” Grabbed it, tossed the bags on, then set Jeff between the duffels to keep him in place, before walking away just as fast as my poor aching feet and back could take us.

Zoll or Customs, was the nightmare I thought it would be. Our stuff got pawed through, my papers were scrutinized with in an inch of their lives and the politzi with the big bushy mustaches and bigger machine guns inched closer when I pulled out ‘Snubby’and the ‘Lovers Kiss’ for their inspection. Oddly enough too, the Customs inspector didn’t look twice at the fancy mating collars, but boy did he give the ‘paper weight’ the once over heavily. “What is this?” He’s opened the box and picked it out of its wrappings.

“A paper weight.” I said simply. When dealing with any authority, the KISS method prevails. Keep. It. Simple. Stupid.

“Why are you carrying it with you?” Good question, suppose I’d wanna know that too, if I were in his shoes.

“Because it was a mating gift from my mother in law, and she’d kill me if I lost it.” Ah, the old ‘mother in law gag’. Works every time. Doesn’t matter the country or culture, the in laws are the bane of everyones existence. Remember, if I can fool a lie detector in Rochester, New York, can fake my way through German Customs in Frankfurt. I ain’t a Novac for nuthin. The note from Naomi-Mom about this little trinket was hidden in plain sight. It was the book marker for ‘Last of the Mohicans’.

Satisfied with the answer, the dude dropped it back in its box and went on to the next thing. And the next, and the next until both duffel bags and the diaper bag got the going over from Hell. Satisfied that all the papers were in order, I wasn’t a sympathizer of the Red Army Faction because of the weapons and was legal parent of Jeffery, they let me pass. Had to pack up the crap again, toss it on the cart and went to find a phone booth.

Which, thank the Alpha God, found in short order. Yup, still look like a hand of bananas. Pick Jeff off the cart, step inside the booth and shut the door. Set him down next to my feet, figuring the floor could be no more germy or dirty then that ‘flying metal death tube’ we were cooped up in for the last nine hours. 

Hmmmmmm....25 pfennings for a local call. 10 pfennings more then the last time I was here. Oh well, inflation hits everywhere. Fished around in my pocket and came up with some dimes, quarters, two 10 and one five pfenning pieces. Took out the wallet and found the scrap of paper with Colonel Sam’s phone number on it. Glanced at my watch, was about 22:10. Hate calling people this late because it’s rarely good news but if I remember right, there are trains and buses running at this time of night, but with this much luggage, being pregnant and trying to keep control of Jeff, I’ll make the call and at least let them know I’m here and not just show up on their door step..

The phone buzzed only twice before it was picked up. “Hello?” A neutral female voice came on the line. “Winchester residence.”

“Uh hi. Sorry for calling so late, but I just cleared Customs and...”

“Is this Castiel?” Now the voice took a friendly tone. Then could hear someone in the back ground asking who was calling and her answering, “it’s Castiel. He’s at the airport.”

“Yeah, hi, sorry, shoulda said that right off the get go.” Boy am I tired. “Just wanted to let you know I’m in and will catch the train and.....which station would be closer to you?”

“Oh no you don’t,” this must be Jessica Winchester I’m guessing who picked up the phone. Not the putzfrau, she would have left long before now. “There’s no way we’re having you try to figure the trains this time of night after spending the day on a plane. And besides, it’s too cold out tonight for a pup to be out in.” Oh, hadn’t thought of that. So we arranged a meeting place, the Steigenberger’s resterant here in the airport. It would take them about a half hour/45 minutes to get put together, out the door and then over here. In the mean time could get a little something in our guts while we were waiting.

“Thanks Mrs Winchester,” I began. Figure it’s always better to error on the side of formality then not. Especially when you’re the omega mate and dealing with someone who socially outranks you.

“It’s Jess,” she corrected gently. “We are family after all.” Okay, this is a good start. Talked a moment or two longer, then said our goodbyes and hung up. Jeff in the mean time had gotten bored and escaped into sleep. Ulysses of course is doing jumping jacks....sorry... the side straddle hop and I just want to drop. Oh aren’t we a merry little band of misfit toys. Lay Jeff on the baggage cart and pushed it down the corridor to the Steigenberger Picnic. As I remembered, it was a chain resterant and the food was.....have no clue as Naomi-Mom and Zachariah never took us there or any resterant for that matter. And In my opinion, the O’Club didn't count.

In the resterant waiting area, there were benches next to the hostess desk where I pushed the cart to and sat down. There was still a good crowd in the place having dinner, as Europeans tended to eat later then Americans. The hostess came over with a menu and in rather good English said there was be a 10 to 15 minute wait for a table. Which was fine, was in no hurry and besides this was for take out. Flipped open the little green and white menu with the picnic basket on the front. Ohhhh, let’s see.....zwiebelsuppe.....onion soup. Gockelbraten...hard boiled eggs and a hamburger on a bröchen with french fries! Oh hell yeah! And it’s 5 marks 80 pfennings. Have got a 10 mark note, so have more then enough.

“Hamburger im bröchen mit pommes frites bitte, ” I had flagged down a waitress and put in the order to go.

“Red or white?” Asked the waitress. Boy, forgot how people were bi and tri-lingual over there. Got used to Americans only knowing...english. Kinda sorta as it was the American kind. Took a minute to figure out what she was talking about, and then remembered. Ketchup was red and mayonnaise was white. These two condiments would loaded on to the point where they drown the fries into mush of greasy potatoes, weird tasting mayo and curry ketchup. Never a favorite of mine.

“Nein, danke.” Besides, would be paying extra for it any way. The waitress took my order and left. Now, just have to wait, people watch and make sure that Jeff doesn’t wake up, get up and wander off. It’s about 22:40, the airport is still busy and doesn’t show any sign of slowing down or at least not for the time being. German nationals, people from the Middle East in flowing robes, business men from the Far East and G.I.’s in uniform coming in from the States made their way by. Had passed the Armed Forces kiosk on the way over. Most people assigned over here, reported in there first and then put on a bus to the base they were posted to. Normally, I would have stopped there too, but since I have family here, could skip that.

It’s the 18th of January, wouldn’t be reporting for another 10 days. More then enough time to ditch the jet lag, drop and hopefully see John, Dean or Lewiston. Prolly want to sign on to post on Friday the 26th to get housing, do some shopping for food, toilet paper and cleaning supplies, so will be ready to hit the ground running on Monday the 29th.

“Sir,” turned to find the waitress had returned holding a bag of food. “I have your order. That will be five marks, eighty pfennings please.” Oh, that’s right. The taxes and tip are figured into the price of the meal. So the price on the menu is the one you pay. That had taken me a little while to get used to when I came back from Europe the last time. In America, the tax was added on to the check later and then you were expected to leave a tip for the waitstaff. Got the stink eye from a lot of waitresses that first month stateside.

Set the bag on top of my belly, opened it and stuck my nose in. Oh. My. Alpha. God! That smelled good! Pulled out the burger, it was wrapped in wax paper with some of the juices seeping through. Peeled back the paper and took a bite. Thought I was gonna jizz in my pants right there. There is nothing in this world like German bread. Any G.I. or Expat will say, that along with beer and the Autobaun, the bread is the thing they miss the most. And bröchens most of all. The little or big rolls that are just sooooooo good, they’re orgasmic. 

Moaned like I was in the heat of passion with each bite. The meat didn’t need salt or pepper, ketchup or mustard. It was cooked just perfectly and tasted the way good beef should. To be fair, Lums puts together a fine burger as did the Pillars in Rochester. But this.....this beat them all. Ate it down to the crumbs till I was wiping the grease off the wrapper and licking my fingers. Much to the amusement of the hostess and a couple of customers, who’d overheard me. “Sein eingenes Süppchen kochen,” over heard one of the alpha men snicker. 

Oh crap, didn’t want to bring any attention to myself and now I’ve gone and done it. About that time (the Alpha God must love my squirrely ass) saw the mobile sky scraper that was Lt Colonel Sam Winchester coming up the corridor. “Col. Winchester!” I bellowed, wallowing my way up off the bench, jamming the food bag in the coat pocket (hey, there were fries left) grabbing hold of the baggage cart and set that sucker to ramming speed. 

“Das Ampelmänchen ist grün,” heard the same voice hoot after me, followed by another wave of laughter. Ha, ha. Funny man. What a riot. Assbutt.

“Cas!” Col Sam saw me come barreling toward him. “Good to see you.”

“Hello Sir.” Oh man, hope this thing as some breaks. He stepped out of the way in time as I got the cart under control, skidding to a halt where his toes had just been. “Thank you so much for coming to get me. Sorry to put you out like this.”

He just waved off the comment, “that’s what family is for. We help each other.” Then he looked down at my sleeping pup. “My Alpha God, I’ve seen the pictures you’ve sent Dean and Dad, but they really don’t do him any justice. Damn, he’s big.”

“95th percentile,” I said proudly, picking Jeff off the duffel bag and giving his chubby cheek a kiss. Or he was the last time I had him at the doctors. Which was......Thanksgiving. The same time as my last exam. Jenny and Lewiston are gonna kill me....if John or Dean don’t get to me first. Maybe can get in an exam at the Frankfurt Army Hospital before heading off to K-Town. Because, I don’t think I’ve have much time after reporting in. Slung the diaper bag around my neck and grabbed up one of the duffels. 

“Let me take them,” Col Sam had already had one bag over his shoulder and was going for the other. “You’ve got a pup to wrangle.”

“It’s kind of heavy Sir,” I began and then shut up when confronted with the ‘Winchester Bitch Face’-patent pending. Jeff had already pulled it on me a few times, must be genetic, along with the big sad eyes thing. Not to mention the ‘dimples of death’. Okay, if Col Sam wants to give himself a hernia, who am I to stand in his way? 

I know Jessica had said something about it being cold, but was not expecting the freezing air that stole my breath and sent ice daggers though my body. Also wasn’t expecting the snow, I knew Germany got the stuff, but not in the amounts I was seeing piled up as we walked across the road to the parking lot. Could see the big neon sign of the Sheriden Hotel glowing in the distance. There were snow piles worthy of a Rochester winter. Hugged Jeff closer, even buttoned up in the great coat, could feel the little guy shiver in his sleep. Ulysses was wrapping himself around my spine to keep warm.  
,  
“Bad winter this year,” Sam voice came out in a cloud of vapor and was almost lost in the crunch of packed snow underfoot. “Heard from the locals, there usually isn’t this much snow but they got socked in like there was no tomorrow. This is Russian cold, blew in off the Uriels and came right across Europe. REFORGER is gonna be bitch.” Oh crap, that’s right, forgot all about that. The parking lot was wide, wind swept and full. Thank heavens, Col Sam found their car in short order; still driving the old Mercedes with more metals then the Kaiser.

“Irv!” Jeff had woken up and was letting everyone know he was not happy to be awake, cold and prolly a little hungry. “Bad!”

“Shhhhh, go back to sleep.” Blew scent across his nose, knocking him back to dream land. Yeah, yeah, bad papa. Well you take this Irv and shove it. I’m barely keeping my own shit together long enough and don’t need to deal with his. Sam opened the trunk, dropping in the duffels and diaper bag. Climbed in the passengers side door and sat on the cold leather seat. The Kaiser was water cooled, so the engine warmed up fast and the vents actually pushed heat. Damn, I gotta get me something like this, cuz my little air cooled shit Bug is not going to do well any time soon.

Col Sam nosed the car out of the lot and headed toward Autobaun 5, There was a light snow falling now and windshield wipers were slapping to and fro in a calming rhythm. Better do some talking or I’ll drop right here. So, asked what the big news was, how’s the family, what have you heard from your father or Dean? 

“REFORGER is the thing everyone is talking about,” he said, I listened with half an ear as I was too busy taking in the light and dark shapes of the city. But noticed for once, what traffic there was, is really not going that fast on the Autobaun. Now there’s a first. People usually drive pedal to the metal day or night around here, but not tonight. Must be the snow or black ice. “The brass wanted real life conditions, and it looks like they’re gonna get it this year.” Oh yeah...Col Sam....REFORGER....oh crap.

In the course of the conversation, found out he has a daughter, Anne who’s about a year and six months old. She’s walking and can say ‘momma’ and ‘dadda’ and ‘corpus’. Apparently, she been in the room when the colonel is practicing his court room speeches. Mentally compared her with Jeff’s progress, sounds like he’s almost to the same place at 11 months as she is at 18. Well, he did have all those essences and the hurry up from being conceived from the mating fugue. Course not going to mention all this to Col Sam. Might as well let him find out on his own.

“Heard from Dad last week,” huh? Oh yeah. “Said to give him a call when you get in. Though I suspect he figured you might arrive a little earlier then this.” We get off the Autobaun at the ‘A66’ exit and take a right. “Dean said he’d be coming over tomorrow to say hi.” Oh crap and I’m going to be in drop. Hopefully, it won’t be three days like the last time. After a series of rights and lefts on the narrow city streets, Col Sam aimed The Kaiser up to the guard shack and gate of the Hugel Housing Area where he and his family lived. 

The civilian security officer let him through with a wave and “goot evening Herr Colonel Winchester.”

“Guten Abend, Herr Schmit.” (Good evening Mr Schmit) Not bad Colonel, just a slight American accent. You know the words, where to put em and how to say em without making the local populace cringe. We drive through and up small rise, turning left into the parking lot of a three story apartment building The car glided into an empty spot, stopped and Col Sam turned off the engine. “Home sweet home. Come on, let’s get you two inside.” He got out, popped the trunk and took the duffels out, shouldering them, then striding across the parking lot and into the apartment building. I tagged after him carrying the sleeping Jeff with the diaper bag thumping against my side.

“Sorry, no elevator.” Sam took a deep breath and headed up the stairs taking them two at a time. Kind of impressive carrying 60 pounds of luggage.

I plugged along after him, blowing hard and.....“Ow!” Damn that pup kicks like a mule! Bent over holding my side, come on, let’s work through the....“OW! Shit fire and conserve matches!” That hurt. And being things come in threes.....OH FUCK, there it is! Leaned against the wall, puffing and blowing. And getting dizzy from puffing and blowing. Now I had to sit down. Just need to catch my breath, get rid of the spins.....there.....just need to calm Ulysses down a bit. Open the great coat to stroke my belly: “there, there. You’ve had a rough day little guy. Flown all over creation, bumped against seats, not being fed on time. I’d be a little off too.” And with that, Ulysses quit kicking and cuddled against my palm. “That’s a good boy.” Okay, let’s kick this day in the ass.

“You okay down there?” Sam came back down the stairwell after he must have realized that he wasn’t being followed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, just Ulysses practicing his football moves. You’d think he was trying out for the Derby Rams or FCK here in K-Town.”

“I prefer the Hannover 96 myself, but that’s something for another night.” He helped me to my feet and we continued up the stairs, till we got to the second floor and their apartment where the duffel bags were leaning against the front door.

With jiggle of keys and click of a lock, we crossed the threshold into a comfortable, obviously pup proof room that said the occupants had been here and done that and had the knick knacks to prove it.(All said knacks were up high enough to keep out of reach of little hands. Said it was pup proofed) There in the front room was a schrank, hat/coat/umbrella stand by the door (does everyone have one of those?) a Korean A Frame or chige carrier on the wall along with living room furniture that I bet has at least four moving tags from their last five moves still stuck to the bottom.

Mrs Jessica Winchester was a rather attractive beta lady in her late 20’s, slim with only the slight pudge of left over pregnancy weight, she’s short, blonde and prolly looks lovingly into her mates navel. “Hello Castiel,I’m so glad to finally get meet you. I’ve heard so much you.” I’ll bet. Can imagine the picture Mary and Lisa painted of me. Gold Digging, Home Wrecking, Mate Stealing Omega slut Inc. (Oh where is Laverne and Shirley when you need em?)

“Glad to finally meet you too,” juggled Jeff to the other hip to shake hands. Now trying to figure out how not to be a horrid guest right off the get go, because didn’t know how long could stay on my feet, when she saved me from embarrassing myself.

“The guest room is this way, the bath is right across the hall. Can imagine you’re exhausted. You have that ‘drop’ look about you....I’m a LPN, saw it a lot in the hospital I worked in, so I know the signs.” She lead us through the living room, down a short hall way, into a guest room that looked like it doubled for Col Sams home office. As there was a desk and file cabinet on one wall with a single bed, night stand and crib on the other. “Make yourself at home.”

“Gee, thanks. Sorry for the bother. This is awfully kind of you.” 

Jess smiled and patted my arm. “You’re family. It’s not bother at all.”

 

2231 Platenstraße   
Apartment 3B, Second Floor  
Friday, January 19th 1978  
06:00 AM Central European Time  
Sam’s POV

 

Come slowly up from sleep to realize something was wrong with my nose. There was a finger in it. Reached over for the bed side lamp, course knocked it over, righted it and then got the light flicked on. There was my nephew.....half-brother....let’s stick with nephew....kneeling on Jesses vanity bench, must have pulled it over to the bed, climbed up and went nose mining. He blinked, cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Hee hee.”

“Ya ‘tee hee bird in a ha ha’s nest’, go pick your own nose,” I said grumpily, pulling his finger out, yuck. Give the little twerp credit, he did a good job booger diving. Checked the clock, it was a little after six. Crap, I should be getting up anyway. Gotta be at the office by 08:00.

“What’s going on Sam,” heard Jess say sleepily. 

“It’s Cas’s pup, Jeff.” Sat up and stretched. “’He’s got in here some how, pushed your vanity chair over and was excavating my nose.”

“Irv.” Jesus, he’s a big pup. He was sitting there on the bench, dressed in nothing but a diaper and a sweatshirt that was two sizes too big for him. “Eggy, Uncas Sammy?” Oh Sweet Jesus! What is that smell? It’s worse then Savannah, Georgia at midnight. Jess and I had driven down to Florida when I was stationed up in Ontario, Canada taking classes at their JAG school. There had been a week long holiday break, so figured we had enough time to drive down. Discovered that you could smell Savannah long before you could see it.

“Oh he’s so cute. Look at those dimples.” Jess came up and hefted him off the chair. “Yikes! He weighs a ton...and....HOLY SHIT, what’s that stink? Anne diapers are no bed of roses, but this’s literally ‘Ewww de Toilet’. What’s Cas feeding this pup?”

“I don’t know but let’s get him outta here and changed because my eyes are starting to water.” Got up and pushed the window open. Didn’t care if it was a million degrees below zero, just as long it froze the stink so I could shove it out the window. A moment or two was all I could take of the cold, considering was just standing there in boxers and a t-shirt. My days of sleeping in the nude long gone, (along with ‘morners’)not when you have a pup in the house who toddles in to throw off your covers.

“SAM! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!” Oh Christ, what now? Slammed down the sash, then tossed on a bathrobe to came out to kitchen to find Jess had gotten the diaper bag out of the guest room and must have started to rummage through it. Jeff was sitting happily on the floor playing blocks with Anne and my mate had become a pistol packing momma. Jess was holding a 38 snub nosed revolver in one hand and a rather impressive 45 cal in the other. “Who the hell carries these in a diaper bag and how did he get em through Customs?”

There were a pile of papers sitting next to the bag on the counter that Jess must have pulled out, reached over and started sheafing through them. And there it was. The near impossible to get authorization for bringing weapons into Germany. Jumping Jesus Cas, who the hell do you know? Oh yeah, there’s the name right there; Fergus Crowley. If your dad is the ‘King of Hell’, then it’s a gimme that it wouldn’t take much to get papers like these. Figure would put those babies in the lock box in my office desk where my 45 is. Nice hardware though.

Checked the weapons making sure the safetys were on, the chambers empty, then stuffing them in the pockets of the bathrobe, walked over the guest room. Huh, the door is ajar. Duh, of course, that’s how Jeff got out, about and picking my nose. Tapped on the door, “Cas, gotta come in for a moment. We gotta talk later about the..............HOLY ALPHA GOD!” He’s naked! Totally buck ass naked on the bed! Wow, he’s fucking huge. Thought Jess was bad carrying Anne but this guy’s a whale. Trying not to look, went over to the desk, pull out the desk drawer with the lock box and set Castiels pistols in next to mine. Okay it’s not that I haven’t seen a naked omega before. Or even Cas naked....in print. I may have leafed through that issue of ‘Mega or have a copy of the ‘special edition’. What?! It’s a collectable. Gonna be worth some coin someday. Course couldn’t help but steal another peek, I’m an alpha, sue me-don’t try. I ain’t a lawyer for nothin.

“SAM!” Oh, I gotta get outa here. Didn’t even bother trying to shut the door quietly, just slammed it behind me and fast walked back to see whether Jess was still snooping through the diaper bag or actually slapping a clean diaper on Jeff or had seen me seen me scoping Cas out.

“Oh my Alpha God,” oh crap. Busted. Why did President Carters comment of ‘I only lusted in my heart’ come to mind. Damn Playboy. The only time I read it for the articles and this is what I get for it. But then noticed her voice was softer, more in awe, not mad. Okay. Not busted. There was a necklace box in her hand and had opened it to reveal a silver collar set in yellow stones and......are those diamonds? “It’s beautiful.” The old czars collar, Dad had mentioned it in passing once that summer I’d gone out to Fort Riley to see him and Cas. Had seen it on Castiel’s neck one day after they had....well...done stuff...and asked about it. The collar, not the stuff. Had known what they had done, think all of ‘Colonels Row’ heard it that day.

“It was mating gift from the czar of all Russias to Lady Bela Crowleys great grandmother,” Dad had said lazily. He was pouring himself a scotch and smelling strongly of sex and cigars. And no I didn’t want to know what he did while smoking. “Her ladyship had given it to Cas on our mating day.” Course at the time, no one knew why she’d given such a valuable family heirloom to a complete stranger. Except, now we do. 

“How old do you think this is?” Was about to say probably before the turn of the century, when I turned to find, she had pulled out another box. This collar too had yellow stones but set in gold chains. It looked older then the first one. “Never saw anything like this outside of Sotheby’s,” last September we’d left Anne with my parents and I’d brought Jess to London with me. “You had ‘things’ to do* and I talked my way into watching an auction.” 

The collar in the third box was older still. “This is Chinese, prolly late Ming early Qing.” She looked a little insulted at my questioning brow raise. “Remember, I lived in San Francisco? Had a friend in the antique business in Chinatown. She taught me how to tell the good stuff from the junk. I tell you what son, this ain’t junk.”

“Jess, do you think you could go get Cas up? I need a word or two with him.” 

My loving mate, woman I love, mother of the cutest, smartest little pup on the face of this or any planet, looked at me like I was silly. “He’s in drop. I really can’t as someone in the health care profession, ethnically wake him up. It could be damaging in his condition and might spontaneously abort the fetus. Don’t worry, He’ll only be like that for a day or two.” Well, glad she’s taking this in stride.

BECAUSE I’M NOT! Dear Alpha Lord, this is getting a little much for this time of the morning and without coffee. A stinky pup, his pregnant papa in drop, guns and insane antiques. Why me? Why do I have to deal with this? Thanks Dad, oh bless your heart Dean. Son of a Bitch, why do I have to get dropped into the middle of your love lives? “Geeze, this is one ugly paper weight.” Great, in the middle of this was a hunk of glass and cheap rhinestones. With our luck, it’s probably some huge diamond with a big ole curse on it. Oh shit, please don’t be real, don’t think I can take much more.

“Hey look,” Jess picked up a note off the counter that had fallen out of the tattered paper back that Cas must have left there last night. Opening the note: “It’s from his....mother, Naomi. Holy Mother Fucken Shit, that paper weight is part of the Iranian Crown Jewels! Do you have any idea how ‘hot’ this thing is now that the Shah’s been run out?” 

“Shit.” Anne looked up at us with a jack o lantern grin on her face. “Hooy mo ucken shit.”

Oh that tears it! I stalked over to the telephone, don’t care how early in the morning it is, can’t take any more of this! I can deal with mortar rounds, stubborn witness’s and moving half way across the world on three days notice....but this?! This needs to end right now! The rotatory can’t roll back fast enough as I dial Dad’s number. “Winchester residence, Mary Winchester here.”

“Mom, where’s Dad? I need to talk to him right now!”

“Honey, is everything okay?” Mom sounded worried. “Is it Jess? Anne? Do you need me to come down there?”

“No. It’s about Cas and need to speak with Dad.”

“Oh, him. Just a minute.” Whoa, knew that Mom didn’t care much for Cas but didn’t know it was that bad.

After a moment, heard the sound of foot steps, then the scrape of the phone being picked up, “Sam? Is everything alright? Is my Lambkin okay?” Now he sounds worried.

“Uh, I guess he’s okay. He dropped and....and.....” Then it all come out in a rush. “His pups diaper should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention, he has GUNS! Big guns! Collars that should be a museum and the Iranian..”

“SAM SHUT UP!” My jaw snapped closed like it was on a spring. “Don’t EVER discuss that last thing unless you’re on a secure line.” Damn. What’s going on? “Okay son, talk to me.”

“I just....need Cas to wake up. Know maybe it’s being childish, but I can’t take responsibility for all this stuff. And his pup. The kid’s a monster.....well not really. He’s just so big....and...stinky.....I...just need Cas to wake up.” 

Dad sighed. “It’s not usually not a good thing to wake an omega abruptly from drop. They need to rest and it’s damaging to their health to do so. But that said, it can be done if done correctly. Usually, an omega will obey their alpha even in drop and come up out of it.” He snorted ruefully, “but my dearest little Lambkin can resist an alpha voice. About any alpha voice. Although.....” Dad said thoughtfully, “there are two people he will listen to and obey without hesitation. Hmmmmm. Call you back in about an hour.”

It was considerably less then hour later, when Dad called back. “Hey there son. Got the help you need. You’ll also have an extra house guest for the night. Jenny agreed to come down from Bielefeld.”

“Who’s this Jenny and why did invite her into my house?” Most days I love my family but this isn’t one of them.

“She’s Lady Jeanette Jerome Reynolds, omega mate of Major General Lewiston Reynolds, mother to Jesse, who’s Castiel’s First with whom we share a Profound Bond.”

Oh, THAT Jenny. “And Cas will respond to her? She’s an omega.” Okay, that came out badly. Usually don’t have this much hoof in mouth disease, but then again I’m not usually hosting an insane asylum.

Whatever I was going to say to make that last statement a little more palatable was drown out in a laugh that was as long as it was dirty. “Are you kidding? My Lambkin would wake up, present then go to Hell and back if Jenny asked him too. Plus he’s carrying she and Lewistons’ Bond pup.....” Wait. What?

“Uh, that pup he’s pregnant with isn’t yours?”

“No,” Dad sounded surprised. “It’s Lewistons. Didn’t I ever get around tell you that?” 

“You left out that little detail.” Okay, that’s it. I don’t want any more of this mashugana. Want him up and out. Know I thought this whole ‘Profound Bond’ was a great honor, okay, it got us involved with the phony omega case. The one we’re still investigating on the sly. Have been told officially at Division to stay out it and let the local police agencies to deal with it. But.....Interpol didn’t tell us stay out, Richard Moore definitely is keeping me up to date on the investigation and if we crack it....can write my own ticket to any law firm in the good old US of A. Okay, I’m in. Sighed, “alright. Lady Reynolds can stay the night.”

Dad’s voice was beaming. “Good, because she’s on her way. Knowing Jenny and that womans lead foot she’ll make that three hour trip down from Bielefeld in half the time.” 

Know I shouldn’t ask but, “wasn’t General Reynolds your division second in command at one time but what does he do now?”

“Second in command at First Corp, British Army on the Rhine.” Dad snickered. “He’s quite the wheel over there.” Damn. “Well, Sammy my boy. I gotta get ready as the ‘salt mines’ await. Come up some time, your mother would love to see you, Jess and my little Annie Green Gables. Okay be seeing you. Let Cas know I’ll be down as soon as I can. Bye.” And with that, he hung up.

“What did your father say?” Jess had Jeff in the sink spraying the mess off his butt. He was laughing, saying ‘Irv’ all while splashing water in every direction and Anne was next to her mother jumping up and down in the spray crowing “rain, rain, rain!”

“We’re having a house guest for the evening,” I said absently, stumbling to the bathroom. “Lady Reynolds is coming down to wake Cas up. “I’m going to shower and then head into the office. And the next time I see Dean. I’m going to punch his lights out.”

“Why wouldn’t that be any different then most days,” heard Jess call after me.

“Irv.”

“Rain, rain, rain!”

How is this my life?

It was small favor that the Judge Advocates Office was crazed up as an ant hill with a sugar cube when I got there. My boss, Col Asmodous was on a tear, so everyone had to look or be busy with something. Which was fine by me, didn’t wanna think of what was going on at home or what will be, so dug into the pile of crap that had languish in my in-basket for weeks.

It wasn’t until the phone was jangling itself off hook, that I looked up at the time. 13:30. Wow, where did the morning go? Now my stomach rumbled. Jess had made me a lunch, but I think I’ll go over to the schnitz cart and get some of that instead. But before I could stand the phone began to ring. Grabbed up the receiver and pinched it between my shoulder and ear, “JAG Office, LtCol Winchester here.”

“Wow, you sound sooooo official. Sir Sammy, Sir.”

Asshole. “Hello Dean, what do you want? I’m busy.” 

“Aw come on Sammy, you always have time for me.” My brother put on that voice that charmed waitresses, secretaries, teachers and file record clerks since he hit puberty and presented as an alpha.

Ahhhhh, let’s get this over with. “Alright, what do you want?

There was a pause, then surprise...he dropped the ‘Mr. Charm’ voice. ” How’s Cas? Last I knew he was suppose to come over on the 17th. Did he make it okay? Jeff is alright?” Should’ve figured that’s why Dean’s calling. 

“I suppose it depends on your definition of ‘okay’ or ‘alright’ is. This morning I woke to find his son was digging boogers out of my nose. That pups diaper smells worse then a latrine after a company beer bust. That Lt Novac keeps the most impressive collection of fire power in a diaper bag, in self same bag is jewelry that should be in a museum and he dropped. He fucking dropped.” Hadn’t realized I’d raised my voice to a level where the rest of the office was listening in. Oops. “Hold on a minute,” set the phone down, then got up to close my office door. Like Virginia Wolf, I have a room of my own.

There, now can continue, picked up where I left off. “And to top it off there’s some English lady who Dad invited to MY home without asking me, who’ss coming to wake Cas up.”

“Dad couldn’t come and wake him up? The ‘So You Have an Omega’ book sez an alpha can pull his/her omega out of drop.”

“Well, apparently that book of yours doesn’t take into account one Castiel Novac Winchester. Cas doesn’t listen to Dad any better then he listened to you.” I said testily. “But apparently, for some reason, Cas listens to her.”

Heard a long sigh come from out the receiver. “I don’t care who my Little Maid listens to. Just as long has he’s up and I’m able to see him and my son. So the devil himself could wake Cas up for all I care.” Which struck me as funny, considering Castiel has a brother with the nickname of ‘Lucifer’ and a father who’s the ‘King of Hell’. But I don’t laugh, because hysterics never looked good on me. “Think you forgot ‘your’ Little Maid is mated to our dad.”

“Think you forgot I am going to get him back in about two and a half years.” Provided Dad wants to give him up. But didn’t mention that to my brother. “Anyway, would like to come down tomorrow to see him. Would you mind a little more company?” 

Oh would like to say no, but then again.....if it gets Cas and company out of my hair faster. “Okay, no problem. You driving or taking the train?”

“Think I’ll drive, Baby needs to stretch her legs.” 

“You and that car.” There were times that Dean had a better relationship with the Impala then with Lisa.

“Hey, no bad mouthing the wheels. Baby has feelings to ya know.” Counted to 10 before I decided to say anything.

“Okay, I have to get back to work. See you Saturday Dean.” Waited long enough for him to say so long before hanging up. Picked up a pen and some foolscap to write a note to myself. Have to call the beer man to drop off at least 10 more bottles of wiessbier, the bread man for some extra bröchens and the milk man for an additional bottle of heavy cream. Need that for the coffee and pie.

Rolled through the housing area gate about 19:00 as I’d stopped at the officers club for a drink after leaving the office about 16:45. Had a beer, a few shots and some talk with a couple of fly boys who were testing out this new fighter plane for REFORGER called the A-10. Said it was ugly as sin and sounded like a fart when it fired but boy howdy anything it shot at, was screwed, blued and tattooed. Said the rounds could go through anything, “even in a tank.” The one guy bragged. “Ya’ll no better then hidden in a beer can.”

Listened to them for a while, but knew I was stalling and had to get home at some point. It had snowed another few inches and had already heard things were not going as planned on the REFORGER front. The ships bringing in the tanks, jeeps and APC’s for the First Infantry Division had arrived in Antwerp but off loading and loading on to rail cars were being delayed by an ice storm. So looks like they’re going have to scrounge some equipment from the other divisions and regiments until that stuff arrives. Needless to say, the brass was not happy and Dad especially.

Oh that was my other phone call after Dean’s. Dad called to see if Lady Jenny had made it and I’d had to tell him that I hadn’t called home yet. So he got to vent about General Haig riding his ass because things were not moving as fast as they should and that he’s been ordered to Antwerp to kick ass and take names. “Tell Cas I’ll be down when I can.” Yeah, will get right on that.

And so the collective ‘they’ wanted real life conditions, looks like they got it this year. What a cluster fuck. The Russians and East Germans must be laughing their asses off watching all this.

Found my usual parking spot and wandered across the lot, my foot steps muffled by the snow. All I wanted was to have dinner, polite conversation with this Lady Jenny and then go to bed. Walked up the stairs, leaving a trail of slush and sand from the side walk, pulled the keys out of my pocket and opened the door to find a parade marking time in the living room.

Oh the grand old Duke of York,  
He had ten thousand men;  
He marched them up to the top of the hill,  
And he marched them down again.

And when they were up, they were up,  
And when they were down, they were down,  
And when they were only half-way up,  
They were neither up nor down!

Leading the march was an omega woman with a wash bucket on her head and a feather duster taped to it, a toilet plunger baton and Christmas bows stuck to the front of her sweater. Following in her wake was Castiel, Anne, Jeff and bring up the rear was Jess. They all had sauce pans on their heads and wooden spoons in their hands, though Jess was sporting our soup kettle.

“Hello Darling!” Jess called out happily. “We’re having a parade to celebrate Cas waking up.” She came and stood beside the woman in the feathered pot. “This is Lady Jeanette Reynolds.” 

“Hello,” I held out my hand to shake hers. Lady Reynolds handed me the plunger, giving both my hand and plunger a hearty shake.

“So lovely to meet you Colonel,” she said with an impish grin. “My goodness but you are a tall one and such big hands. Been quite the day eh what? I suspect you’re a bit peckish.”

“Kinda,” Set the plunger down as I really didn’t know what else to do with it.

“Oh good, have the makings for a good bubble and squeak in the fridge, we just needed you to be home. Come long troops, lets get to the kitchen, quick time march!” And her parade turned and ‘yorked’ it’s way out of the living room. 

“Cas, a word if you don’t mind?” I plunked down on the couch, still in my over coat and cap in hand. Taking the hat off in a building was so engrained that I did it now without thinking. That’s also when Anne toddled back in holding a bottle of beer in both hands. “Wuv ooo DaDa!” The apple of my eye, little blonde haired curly top who was everything I could’ve ever wanted in a daughter and now she just added the cherry on top. The bringer of love and beer. “Thanks Sweetie, wuv you too. Now off you get, go help momma and Lady Jenny.” Then turned my attention to Cas,”how you feeling?”

“Fine, good. Thank you” Castiel had gingerly set himself down on the arm of the couch, with a bit of a pensive look on his face. He’d taken off the sauce pan and set it on the floor next to his heel. “Sorry about just dropping everything on you like that.” His apology came out in a rush. “ Was hoping that it wouldn’t come to that, but it did. Had been living on nerves for the last week and a half and it was nice that Jenny could come down to help and it was just so nice to see her.....” Which is when I noticed the light whisper of sex wafting from the guest room.

Back on target, “it’s no bother. That’s what family is for.” Not really, but what else was I going to say? “Oh, I spoke with Dad and Dean today. Dean will be coming tomorrow to see you. He’s driving up from K-town. Dad may take a little longer and sends his regrets. He’s gone TDY to Antwerp. Apparently there’s been a hold up off loading the ship with the First Infantry Division due to the weather.”

“Well, if there’s anyone who can get the job done, it will be John,” Cas said with a tender smile.  
Then almost as an after thought, he quickly said “it will be nice to see Dean.” Interesting. 

Pushed the stopper out of the bottle and took a long drag. Drained a good third of it before pulling it back. “Nothing like German beer,” I said conversationally. 

“I know,” Cas said, looking like he was relieved to get off the subject of his alphas. “Would really like the opportunity to really tie one on after Ulysses is born.” Would really like to know about how he is going to raise two pups with the limited time a second lieutenant has in their first year, but that’s a subject for another day, as I’ve had way too much to drink. And there’s way too much truth and stuff that I may not like the answers to. We talk about this and that, safe subjects until dinner is ready.

You know, this ‘bubble and squeak’ stuff if really okay. Especially after another bottle of beer. Ahhh, who knows. Get drunk enough and everything tastes good.

It’s later after everyone had said their good nights and we’d gone to bed, that I get the after actions report from Jess. Whether I wanted it or not. Tonight was going to be one of those rare occasions where our bedroom door was locked as I didn’t want to wake to any more exploratory fingers up the nose. Anne and Jeff were sharing the crib in her room (with the latch on the outside of the door on) Cas and her Ladyship went to the guest room with a promise to keep it down to a dull roar.

“It was so interesting, how Lady Jenny did it, “Jess said excitedly. “I had no idea there were vibrators with a ‘frappe’ setting.”

“You....watched?” I gulped. Frappe? That must be one hell of a vibrator to do that.

“But of course. It was for science after all.” Of course. Anything for science. Alpha Lord help me.

“Where were Anne and Jeff during all this?”

“I sent the pups next door to Gails for the afternoon.” At least she had the sense to send them off to the neighbors. Don’t want my daughter scarred for life or having to explain ‘frappe’ as anything other then a setting on a blender.

“So, what happened?” If I was gonna get any sleep tonight, had to get this over with because my dear darling mate would not let go and would fidget the whole damn thing to death if she didn’t get it out of her system.

Jess sat up, turned on the light and out of the bedside table took out her reading glasses and a steno pad.

“You took notes?”

She looked at me incredulously. “Of course I did. I plan on writing an article and submitting it to the American Journal of Nursing. This was unprecedented example of an omega to omega pull from drop and to have a ring side seat to it all, well, who wouldn’t want to write about it? This is an advancement in omega medicine.”

Well, far be it from me to throw a roadblock on the advance of omega medicine.

“First we had some tea and got acquainted. Then went to the guest room, where Lady Jenny stripped down naked.”

“She what?” Okay, this has a better start then what I figured.

“Took her clothes off. She’s an omega, they get naked at the drop of a hat, anyway” Jess said dismissively flipping through her notes. “Made sure Castiel was on his back, no pillows and his legs open for easy access to his pinks.” She consulted her notes, “did you know some male omegas have their genitalia absorbed into their bodies during pregnancy?” Yuck, Ken doll. “Apparently, it’s a common trait amoung male omegas born in hot climates. Quite handy if you ask me. Keeps all the naughty bits out of the way during delivery and makes for easier clean up.”

Unconsciously, slide my hand down to make sure the junk is still where it should be. Yup, the boys are still in town. “So does his stuff ever come back?”

“Oh yes, usually a few weeks after delivery, the penis and testicles go back to their normal positions.” Whew, at least Cas dosn’t have to pee like a chick forever. Did I say that out loud? Check Jess’s face. Nope, no bitch.....er....frowny face. So, I’m in the clear.

Jess went on to explain in the most clinically exciting (to her) terms possible, that with basicly a little scent and whispering in his ear, Lady Jenny got his unconscious to respond and come up out of drop, go to his knees and present. “It was amazing, have never seen so much slick coming out of a person at single time, ever. And even ejaculate, all on command.” Really? She got him to jizz too all on her say so? Damn! “We had to flip the mattress and change the sheets after it was over.” Now that was a more interesting bit of information and ‘Little Sammy’ thought so too.

“Did you hear what Lady Jenny said to Cas to get him to...respond?”

“Oh it was just a bunch of stuff about some guy named Lewiston, his ‘prince Albert’ and what he was going to do with it.” Oh yeah! “Then she mentioned your father,” well that totally reamed ‘Little Sammy’ a new one. He went down like the Andrea Doria. “I didn’t know he was a Bull Alpha.” The clinical tone was now gone from her voice. “I understand Bull Alphas are quite......virile...and hung.” ‘Little Sammy’ has no shame and went right back up. “That they can stay hard for an hour or more and their knots are....well....you know.” There was a crack in her voice and the smell of desire was pouring off her skin. “So, uh....you must take after your fathers side of the family.”

Needless to say, we have my father and Lady Jenny to thank for the best sex we’ve had in weeks.....months...since Anne was born. Okay, that was just wrong in every way, but Jess hadn’t really wanted to do anything lately in the bedroom department and I was tired of whacking off in the shower. As the note book went one way and the boxer shorts went the other, ‘Little Sammy became ‘Big Sam’ and was hard enough to drive railroad spikes. Okay, I really should’ve been skeeved out that Jess got the hots over my dad, but.....a hard dick has no conscience. We did it with the lights on, her glasses on (have such a kink for brainy chicks) and broke the bed.

I tell you what, The American Journal of Nursing isn’t gonna get this article any time soon, although.... Penthouse Forum or Mega’s ‘Honest to God, True Story’ might.

 

2231 Platenstraße   
Apartment 3B, Second Floor  
Saturday, January 20th 1978  
06:00 AM Central European Time  
And we’re back to Castiel’s POV

The next morning was sitting gingerly at the kitchen table, as Jenny had worked me over pretty good. Oh yeah, that was a great night and early morning of fun and games.....especially the games. Jess was flitting around the kitchen beaming as if she rode a bicycle all night. Col Sam was equally happy, as he walked by his mate and gave her a playful slap on the ass. He too wore a big shit eating grin. Ooo, I know those smiles (plus I heard the sound of splintering wood as their mattress hit the floor) somebody got laid. The Orgasm Fairies must came to Apartment 3B last night and sprinkled their fuck dust. 

At certain times during the night, anyone passing the guest room door would’ve heard: Oh there! Right there, oh my Alpha God, you hit the spot.” I moaned, rolling about on the bed. “Haven’t been able to reach it. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” My belly itched like a mother. Used up all the Nivea and coco butter a week ago and didn’t wanna buy any until getting over here. It would be one less thing to carry and one less container to open and get all over my uniforms. Jenny had brought a tin of Nivea, but oh that woman gives good scratch! And pretty darn good sex too. 

Had woken a few times during the night, as I was still trying to get used to the time zone change. Since I was up, there was time and Jenny was here, went under the covers, parted those pretty legs and went pearl diving. Felt her fingers scratch across my scalp. “You wicked boy, how am I to get my beauty sleep?” Then she giggled, “you’re insatiable!”

Dragged my tongue along her pinkie slit, up her smooth belly and to the curve of a luscious breast. Reached her lips “Haven’t had sex in months. Other then with myself, so please forgive me my Lady if I can’t help myself. You’re just so amazingly desirable....delectable.....beautiful....” Yes sports fans, our boy has it bad for the brat from Bombay. Or something like that, being a brat like me, she’s from everywhere, but ‘brat from Bombay’ just sounds really cool.

“I am, aren’t I?” Jenny said lazily. “So other then yourself, who was it that you last had sex with? Johnny? Lewiston?”

“Mick Davies.” I probably shouldn’t have said it, but.....could never deny Jenny anything. “It was heat sex. Lewiston was indisposed.” Oh crud, which means she could easily figured out why he was indisposed and why Mick was there. Which means I might have seen her at her worst, pining over Erics death or worse....when her own mother decked her. What is she gonna do with that bit of information?

“So my fathers pet Irishman had his way with you.” She took hold of my chin and pulled my face to hers so that her lips were lightly on mine. Couldn’t see her in the darkness but Jennys breath and scent coursed into my mouth and nose. Couldn’t move or pull away if my life depended on it, nor did I want to. “Tell me little Charge, was he adequate? Was. He. A. Good. Fuck?” 

It always sent me over the edge to hear Lady Jenny be rude, crude and social unacceptable. “Not” Gad my voice was up too many octaves. “Not...” almost there. “Not” ah, that’s better. “Not bad. He was good.”

“Only good?” She set her teeth lightly on my lower lip.

“Real good?” And speaking of.....no answer was going to be good enough. It was frightening realization that I wanted to be scared for all the sexy reasons.

“As good as Lewiston or Johnny or your Dean?”

“No,” oh geeze, how could you compare one with another. Each were so different and exciting in their own way. Where’s she going with this?

“What about me?” Her teeth went in for quick sharp bite

Tasted the salty tang of blood as it dripped on my tongue. “Nobody is good as you.”

“Sweet boy,” Jenny crooned. “Turn over and present for me.” She flicked on the bedside lamp and picked up the riding crop where it had fallen to the floor from our earlier antics. The black leather covered bamboo switch caressed my naked ass. The flesh were already crisscrossed with pink stripes where Jenny had worked over my bottom earlier, all while making sure a horse cock of a vibrator slid in and out of my pinks. Was on my knees, sway backed and belly hanging to the mattress. Lots of sex and a little pain was good for an omegas pup and I kind of liked a little pain with my pleasure. “My dear boy,” there was a quick snap of the switch. “Of course there’s no one like me.” And the crop came down again. “Now tell me ALL about that night with Mick Davies.” Snap! “And start at the beginning,” the switch flicked teasingly across my thighs. “Not. Leaving. A. Thing. Out.”

Yeah, so you can understand why I’m sitting so carefully and wearing sweat pants along with a frayed comfortable sweater. Will be fine in a day or two. Her Ladyship of course looked fresh as a daisy in her plaid wool traveling suit, having tea and toast all while amusing Jeff and Annie. She tickled the pups under their chins, making them giggle all while getting them eat their breakfasts. She got Jeff to stop wearing his oatmeal and put it in his mouth. Alpha God, is there nothing this woman couldn’t do? “Auntie Jenny,” course both Jeff and Anne could say that. She’ll be heading back north after breakfast. 

“Now Darling,” she said, turning a commanding eye on me. ( You got me hanging how Lewiston could ever call her ‘Mouse’) “I suggest you visit the doctor on Monday. You haven’t had an exam in months.” Yeah, kinda told her EVERYTHING. “And even thought our Ulysses seems to be fine, would rather have the opinion of a doctor. “

“I will,” there’s a big army hospital here in Frankfurt, so can go there on Monday. Hate having strangers poke and prod and scope my bore hole but should be used to it after first time. Maybe that’s why I’m so reluctant to do it again. But have taken vitamins, tried to eat well and get some rest......oh who am I kidding? Rest was nigh on impossible when trying to keep up with studies and Jeff. Hopefully can take this week to catch up on some sleep. Because SOMEBODY pulled me out of drop. Oh hell, the sex alone was worth it.

Ate the oatmeal Jess put in front of me, drank the orange juice along with two slices of toast smothered in red current jelly. A gift from Jenny, “there is nothing like Tracklements on lamb or toast.” That came along with a few bottles of stout. “One needs a few bottles of good English stout in the pantry.” Always a good idea if you’re going to invade, bring presents. Makes it harder for your host to toss you out. Crap, should’ve brought a few rolls of Charmin, that’s always a nice present if you’re coming from the ‘Land of the Big PX’.

The goodbyes were brief and pleasant. Col Sam and Jess were invited up for a weekend to Bielefeld when the weather was nicer to stay at Quarter Two and get a tour of the garrison. A personal invitation to visit BAOR, press the flesh with command and be seen as having friends in high places; good thing for Col Sam’s career and for Jess’s standing too. Just the thing to drop at the officers wives club meeting....’oh, Sam and I ‘were up at Bielefeld over the weekend. We were staying with General and Lady Reynolds, our families have a Profound Bond. Jenny sets such a lovely table. Oh, more tea Mrs General What’s Your Face’?’ And THAT chilblains is how it’s done.

I was standing quietly off to the side there waiting for my chance to say goodbye. Then it was my turn. “Will I see you again soon?” 

“Of course Silly,” Jenny wrapped the stylish fur head covering over her hair as Col Sam held her heavy wool camel coat as she slipped it on. She kissed my cheeks and gave my belly a pat. “It will come sooner then you think. But for now, you have things to do and your life over here to get started. Don’t drag your feet wishing for things that will come in their own good time.” She gave me a quick peck on the lips and was out the door. 

“Papa sad?” Looked down to find Jeff was hanging on to my leg, trying to keep his balance. Bent down and picked him up, settling his heavy old self on my hip.

“Papa not sad.” Told him gently. “Papa just miss Auntie Jenny.”

“Auntie Jenny go bye bye?” I nodded. Then he leaned up and put one of his sure fire happy day puppy kisses on my cheek. “Kith! Wuv you Papa.” Then he cocked his little head, “gooder?”

He could always bring out the sun through clouds, “gooder.” Nuzzled his button nose, “no girl or omega is ever going to be good enough for you.”

Okay, in the mean time, let’s get my ass in gear. Helped Jess get the apartment tidied up for ‘Company Round Two’, as Dean was coming down to visit. Had the vacuum cleaner out and was running it around the living room carpet. Have not had this many butterflies about him since.....well...it was either watching his perky little ass as he ran around the ice rink that first day back at RIT or our last night together before I was mated to John. Hope he doesn’t try biting over the mating scar on my shoulder again or flip out seeing Lewistons bite. Because I’m all done with the gnawing on my shoulder like it was a piece of Colonel Sanders best.

“Cas...Castiel................CAS!” Oh shit! Turned and found Jess was standing in front of me with an amused look on her face. “I think that bit of rug is clean now. You’ve stood in the same spot for the last 10 minutes.” Oops. She lightly slapped my hand off of the handle of the of vacuum and took over. “Dean will be here soon, take a shower and get dressed, I’ll finish here.”

“Thanks, sorry.” I traipsed off to the guest room. Phew, smells like slick, sex and sweat. That won’t do. Cracked the window open to let in some fresh air but wanted to slam it shut a moment later. Brrrrrr, it’s freezing. Damn. Know Germany gets cold, but don’t remember it being this cold. Left the window open as I went to the bathroom to shave, wash up and hopefully get my head on straight. Oh man this felt good. To just stand in the spray, let the hot water run over my body. Watched a little hand press out against the surface of my flesh. “Hi Baby Boy. You met your mommy yesterday....” Jenny had spent a lot of time kissing and caressing my belly, whispering to the pup in my womb. 

For the first time we saw his face as he pressed against my skin. It was the most beautifully creepy thing I’d ever seen.

Put the sweater and sweat pants back on, left the bath then opened the guest room door, Jesus Christ! It’s freezing in here! Scampered over and slammed the window shut, left the door open to let the room warmed up enough even think of going back in. 

Oh man, now what do I wear? Had already hung up the uniforms to get the wrinkles out, now took stock of the few ‘civies’ I had. Other then what I had on, well, there was the trousers from the Botany 500 suit, a pair of jeans with a stretch waist, a couple a nursing shirts, panties, tap pants, oxford shirts and a sweat shirt with the word ‘Maine’ across the front that I’d picked up at a moving sale for a quarter.

Do I leave on the mating collar or take it off? Think will wear the Chinese mating collar. It’s exotic, gives off an air of sophistication (snorted, who am I kidding?) all while saying ‘mated’. Opened up the lock box to take it out, also found the sweet heart bracelet Dean had given me so long ago for Valentines Day. Don’t think I’d worn it more then a few times for him and certainly not after mating John. Rubbed a thumb over the purple stone set in the gold tone metal. What solder or sailor gave this his girl before going off to war? Did he come home to live happily ever after or did this just get pushed to the back of the jewelry box as a painful memory but one she didn’t have the heart to be rid of?

The band expanded as it slipped over my hand to close as it settled on my wrist. Chose the suit trousers, cable sweater, panties and nursing shirt. Will go bare foot, it’s respectful without looking too subservient. Now, have to get Jeff cleaned up, re-diapered and the both of us dressed. He was sitting in front of the TV with Annie watching a bear in sneakers and a pink bird thingie singing the alphabet. “It’s Sesamstraße,” Jess said as she was walking by with the vacuum. “Germany’s version of Sesame Street.” 

Oh, well, that’s good to know for later. “Come on there Sunshine,” grabbed the little rascal and hauled him off to the bathroom. “You need a bath.” 

“Tiffy!” Jeff howled. “Want Tiffy!”

“No Tiffy (who the fuck is Tiffy?) BATH. Come on, hupp two three four and three quarters.” I’m not giving in on this. “Sorry, kiddo. I’m big people and what I say goes.” Dragged a crying and kicking pup to the bath, slamming the door behind us. 

“Bad!” Jeff pounded on the door to get out. “Bad Papa!”

My temper was getting shorter by the second. “Knock it off! You need a bath before Dean gets here.” From that look on his face, my son could give three craps who was coming. Took off his sweat shirt, the pants and nasty diaper. Oh geeze, even something as bland as oatmeal comes out wrong. Turned on the water in the tub and sat down on the edge. Okay, take a breath, let’s try something else. “Look Sport, a duckie.” Picked up the rubber duck and squeaked it at him. “And a boat. Wheeeee! Chuga, chug,chug!”

“Duckie!” Thank the Alpha God, the pup can be easily detracted. Got him in and as Jeff splashed about, got the little booger clean and smelling sweet. Now I’ve got another problem, as much as he didn’t want to get in the tub, now Jeff didn’t want to get out. “Noooooooo! Bad!” He splashed and course got me totally soaked as I was reaching for the stopper. 

“Oh Christ, Pup!” That’s it! “Out! Now!” Plucked the squirming pup out of the tub and tossed him over my shoulder. Grabbed a towel, will move this operation to the living room where there’s a lot more room to maneuver in. Jeff was now screaming, kicking and flailing about, “OW!” His heel caught my nose hard, “OW! OH SIT!” blood was now streaming from my nose, making mess of the front of the sweater. That is it. It’s nap time! Was taking in a deep breath to knock him out as I yanked open the door....

“Hey Cas,” Dean was standing there in the hallway, leaning up against the door jam with that big beautiful pearly white grin of his. He looks recruiting poster or GQ Magazine perfect. Not a hair out of place, cheeks a healthy pink from the cold and that black British commando sweater......meow! I’d eat him in bed with pickles and a side order of fries.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa, haaaaaaaaaaaa, hell....hell....” Course that’s when Jeff’s heel caught me in the lip. “Oh Hell!” Slammed the door shut. “WHAT AM I DOING?! Flung the door back open. “Uh, hello Dean.” 

“Cas,” now the grin had turned into a smirk. “Having a.....busy day?” But then he got a good look at all the blood and that Jeff was still squirming and yelling. Dean held out his arms, “here let me take him and you can take of your nose. Got a towel?”

“Yeah,” handed Jeff over first but had to pull another towel off the rack, the one I was going to use on the pup was now holding to my nose to stanch the blood. “Careful, he bites.”

“Son of a bi........biscuit,” Dean had his son wrapped up like a Tootsie Roll but still had to dodge a sharp snap of teeth. “Last time I saw something like this was on an East German border patrol dog.” Then of course came the bunny growl. “Awwwww, that’s so cute.” Course that made Jeff all the more frustrated and louder. “Okay, time to turn down the volume there Sport. Hey, face forward.” He blew scent into Jeff’s face. The look on the little guys mug was priceless. His brows knit and face scrunched up in confusion.

“Who?” Oh crap. Have not desire to get into who ‘Who’ was.

“Dean, that’s who.” I said quickly. “Say Dean.”

“Eeen? Na Who?”

“That’s right, Eeen.” I sing songed. Let’s get this show on the road. Really don’t wanna get into thinking or explaining the ‘whys and where fors’ of Hugh Ashton. “His clothes are laid out on the bed in the guest room, the diapers are in the diaper bag and his bottle is in the refrigerator.” With that, I quickly closed the door. “Dear Alpha God,” looked at the bloody reflection in the mirror. “This is not how I wanted this to go off.” 

There was a light tap on the door, “in a minute.” That’s that problem with just one bathroom, contemplation of ones sins can only be done as long as no one has to use the john.

“Cas? Can I come in?” Dean? Thought he was taking care of Jeff. “Jess grabbed the kid and thought we needed a little time first.” We do need to talk, but don’t know if the bathroom is quite the place for it. Plus, I look like the ‘Wreck of the Hesperus’, this was not the way I wanted him to see me after being apart for so long. “Come on Little Maid, open the door. Last time we saw each other was Thanksgiving weekend in ‘77.”

“And as I recall, you just about froze me to death coming in from the outside without warming up your hands first.”

“But didn’t I make up for it?” He said teasingly. “Warmed up my hands and....other things? Come on Baby, open up and let me in.” That was a loaded statement. “Have missed you. Haven’t you missed me?” 

“Maybe.” Operation ‘Play Hard to Get’ starts now. Alright, why am I making Dean jump through hoops when I’d drop my panties for Jenny or John in a heart beat? Well, I can’t deny Jenny anything, there is just something about her that I can’t say no to. I can be the submissive, plaint little omega to her and Lewiston without losing any power. Same with John, only he allows me to be powerful, to put on his generals cap and lord over him. Dean Is vanilla sex, or maybe that’s all we had because he was the first alpha I ever really gave myself too. (Spock didn’t count, I fucked him. Sadly, in more ways then one.) Maybe if I let him see the real me, oh sure. Explain those welts on my butt. But mostly I’m as much mad at him as I do love him. Oh that’s just twist-oid.

“Just maybe?”

“I’ve been busy. Pup to raise, school get through, you know. Life and shit.”

“Well, I haven’t had my thumb up my ass either you know,” he sounded a little indigent. “Gotta job to do, cases to investigate, family to support........” Oops. Well nice to know where I stand.

“So I understand.” His last support check arrived two months ago.

“That didn’t come out right,” there was a deep sigh, coming from the other side of the door. “Why do you have to make this so hard? I do love you, I want you back, I want us to be together.”

This not a conversation to be had through a bathroom door or even his brothers apartment. Okay, that’s it. Flung open the door and of course he must have been leaning up against it and fell through. We went down in a tangle of arms and legs. “Alright Dean Winchester.” Shimmied out from under him (not that I really wanted to but...) got to my feet then stood over him, hands on hips and hackles up. “You want me back. I know that little piece of paper you signed says your father is suppose to hand me over in August of 1982. Well guess what?! I may not want to go back. I may want to stay with him or maybe I’ll kick the both of your miserable asses to the curb!”

Dean was slack jawed. Good, guess he wasn’t expecting to hear that. 

“I’m not that desperate little omega college student any more. I’m a responsible (okay that’s stretching it.....alot) adult (hack, cough) with a pup and an army officer. And am not gonna just fall back in your arms. You have to do more to get me back.”

You could tell he wanted to blow up at me, go all alpha and order me to do what he wanted. But then again, he knew I would listen the way I usually did, along with throwing whatever was handy. So he, calmed down and went a different track. “Then what do I have to do to get you back?” He reached over, took the bloody towel from my hand, wet it under the facet and dabbed the spots I’d missed. 

“Alright then, date me.”

“Um, you’re 23.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! Not that kind of dating, ass butt! The kind of date where you take me to dinner and a movie or a walk in the park. Like Archie would take Betty or Veronica, Annette and Frankie or Joanie and Chachi.” Okay, was really pulling it out of my ass with that last one. “I don’t wanna be courted. I wanna be wooed.”

“Why?” Dean finished getting the blood off my face and then rinsed it out of the towel. “It’s not like we don’t know each other.”

“Okay dude, when’s my birthday?”

“Uh.................July 4th?” And with that, he knew he’d screwed up.

“You just made my point. You don’t know me any more.” Came in at an angle to hug him. “Your birthday by the way is March 1st. Dean, I want to get to know you again too. You’re a different guy then the one I knew back in Rochester. And you haven’t even gotten to know Jeff, not in the way you should.” 

“Aw Little Maid” could feel his hands move up and down my back, then slip under the sweater. “Just wanna be the best alpha and father I can for you and the pup.” Could feel his fingers explore the  
the material of the nursing shirt.

“The clasps are in front.” I said dryly.

“That’s not what I was looking for,” he protested innocently. “But since you mentioned it.” He quickly moved one hand to the front of the nursing shirt and undid one of the clasps. Ohhhhh, his hand felt better then it should. “You like that Cas? Does it feel good for you?” The moan that slid out gave him a pretty fast answer. “Sweet little titty.” His fingers were coated with milk as he rolled the nipple between his thumb and fore finger.

That’s when of course there came a pounding on the door. “You guys done in there?!” Could hear the urgency in Col Sam’s voice. “I gotta go!”

“Great timing Sammy!” His brother bitched, trying to cop a feel of the other breast.

“You mean like the time I caught you and Rhonda Hurley swapping................”

“Shut up Bitch!”

“Open the door Jerk! Or I’ll let Jeff shit in your duffel.”

I broke away from Dean, yanked down the sweater and flung that door open so fast Sam almost fell flat on his face “What’s the big whoop-de-do?” Dean protested as I dragged him out of the bathroom. “Okay puppy shit is nasty but......”

“Remember what I said about getting to know your son.?” Oh where is that pup? Oh there’s the little dickens, sitting in front of the TV again watching Huckleberry Hound drawl in a Bavarian accent 'Oh mein liebling Clementine'. And Jeff’s got that ‘I need a new diaper’ look on his cute face too. Scooped him up and handed him over to his father. “Here, your turn. I’ve been doing it for the last 11 months (no I haven’t but he doesn’t need to know that). Diaper bag is in the guestroom. Think you can do it?”

Dean snorted, “is the pope Polish?” He turned and with Jeff over his shoulder, went to the guest room. In three, two, one.......”OH FUCK! RICE PADDIES AND DEAD WATERBUFFALOS DON’T SMELL THIS BAD!” The continued swearing and gagging noises were music to my ears. 

“You know, you’re a mean son of bitch when you wanna be.” Jess came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand and a smoke in the other. “Knew there was a reason why I liked you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wehrmacht: the combined defense force of Nazi Germany. Established in 1935 it ended when the Nazi regime did in 1945.
> 
> Immigration Man: a song from 1972, written by Graham Nash and sung by Crosby, Stills and Nash. It was inspired after Graham-a British citizen at the time, had a rather bad time at Immigration at a US airport.
> 
> Danke, guter Herr Inspektor: basicly some bad German for ‘thank you Mr Inspector’
> 
> Haben Sie vielen Dank: you have my many thanks 
> 
> Putzfrau: cleaning lady
> 
> And how do I know what was on the menu at Steigenberger’s? Because I have the menu described in the chapter. Amazing what you can find on E-bay.
> 
> Sein eingenes Süppchen kochen: cooking his own soup, German slang for masturbation
> 
> Das Ampelmänchen ist grun: The literal translation is: ‘the traffic light man is green’. It is a cross walk symbol of a little green man, meaning pedestrians can walk. Best known and popular ones were in East Germany and East Berlin. It was a little man in a hat and he still exists as a traffic signal in some parts of Berlin and you can buy him on souvenirs all over the city. 
> 
> To give you an idea of what Jess Winchesters car, a 1964 model 220sb ‘The Kaiser’ looks like: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mercedes-Benz_W111#/media/File:Mercedes-Benz_220S_(W_111)_01.JPG
> 
> The Derby Rams, FCK in K-Town and Hannover 96: European football (soccer) teams.
> 
> Chige: Known to Americans as an 'A-frame' and to the British as a 'jiggy', they were held by two ropes around the shoulders and armpits, and were designed to hang the weight of the load on the shoulderswhile the center of gravity was lower on the back. This design allowed the bearer to carry a heavy load while walking, even on a steep gradient-http://manta-bushcraft.blogspot.com/2012/04/frame-chige-korean-traditional-back.html. My ex-husband was stationed in Korea in 1970 and described seeing old papa-sans get full 55 drums of kerosine on the chige, put it on their backs and then walk up a hill.
> 
> For anyone who has ever driven down from the north to Florida and passed by Savannah, Georgia the stink of the paper mill and marsh will bring you up out of a sound sleep. It will take you miles before you get it out of your nose.
> 
> Morner: is a nooner only sooner
> 
> *As chronicled in ‘People Are Strange when You’re a Stranger’. Chapter 13 of Lt Novac-Fort Benning and Fort Lee.
> 
> Hot: 1970’s slang for something gained illegaly
> 
> Schnitz: a vegetable stew with either beef, mutton or sausage depending on where you’re from.
> 
> A-10 Thunderbolt of course, better known as the Warthog, the most badass fighter plane in the whole world. It’s duet in Germany came during the 1979 winter REFORGER (Return of Forces to Germany) exercise.
> 
> Bubble and Squeak: a British dish made of left overs and fried like a big pancake. 
> 
> Tracklements: a company from the UK that for over forty years have been making savory jellies including the red current.
> 
> Tiffy: German Sesame Streets version of Big Bird.
> 
> Annette and Frankie: Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon. Famous beach movie couple.


	3. And Now a Word From...................

Welcome back everyone and thank you for wandering on back. Thought it was time for a little catch up (sorry no mustard) with some of the other folks in the story. And now without further a due (or a don't) we have a word from.....

 

John Winchester  
Port of Antwerp  
Dock 10  
Antwerp, Belgium  
22 January 1979  
13:20 Central European Time

 

This is one of those days when that old leadership saw came to mind:

The objective of all dedicated leaders is to thoroughly analyze all situations, anticipate all problems prior to their occurrence, have the answers for these problems and move swiftly to solve those problems when called upon. HOWEVER, when you’re up to your ass in alligators it’s difficult to remember that your initial objective was to drain the swamp.

And today, I’m up to my armpits in the little motherfuckers. 

Sat in the office I’d commandeered from the harbor master going through reports. REFORGER-Certain Sentential is in trouble. Nothing was getting done; there was no equipment, troops were standing around with their thumbs up their ass-not literally but they might as well be. And this is looking bad for NATO but mostly for General Haig, who has that ‘Peanut Farmer’ in the White House breathing down his neck so of course, shit rolls down hill and woe to those living in the valley. So he ordered his second in command General Schmuckle to Amsterdam, Holland to get the ball rolling there and since the First Infantry Division was in Antwerp, Haig figured I’d do the best job with them.

“This reminds me too much of the winter of 1942 in Russia when I was with the 7th Panzers,” Gerdie Schmuckle said quietly as we’d left Haig’s office last Friday at ‘Oh Dark Thirty’. “The cold, everyone too ill-equipped and mounting casualties.” He rubbed his left arm unconsciously, a gesture a lot of us are want to do when speaking of places where the fighting was hard and an old wound ache reminds us better then a string around our fingers. Reports were already coming in of men being taken off the field due to frost bite or accident. Thank the Alpha God, there’ve been no deaths so far and sadly there’s usually one or two during these things.

So here I am, sent down here by the boss man to get this show on the road. Doesn’t matter if it’s freezing rain or raining fire, if this were the real thing, the Russians weren’t gonna let a little cold get in the way and call a time out to wait for us to get our collective dance step together. Marquis of Queensbury this ain’t.

The equipment from the SS American Corsair belonging to the First Infantry Division should’ve been off loaded two days ago, but of course it’s not. We’re finding there’s been damage to some of the vehicles during transit. Apparently they were not secured properly and the winter Atlantic crossing has caused enough damage to these vehicles that there is no way to repair most of them in time to be part of the exercise. To make matters worse, most of the undamaged equipment is still sitting in the hold of the ship because the weather has made it impossible to get it out and on to the rail cars. We’ve had nothing but freezing rain the last day or two, a bloody ice storm that has brought the city of Antwerp and the surrounding area to a grinding halt.

And from what I heard from Gerdie Schmucle up at the Port of Amsterdam, it isn’t much better there either. Sighed, what I wouldn’t give to be knot deep in my Lambkin at some nice warm little guest house. But that ain’t happening, so back to work.

“General Winchester?” Looked up, it was my aide Captain Jo Harvelle. She’s replaced Delssandro after the little dust up with Castiel which destroyed the Reynolds kitchen last summer. I gave him a promotion, a good recommendation and a warning. Never show his face around me or my Lambkin ever again. Because if he did, no one would EVER find the body. 

“Yeah Jo?”

“We’re getting reports coming in, there’s an issue with the rail lines. Because of the freezing rain,” oh shit what now? “Everything is iced over; the tracks, switches, they can’t get the rail cars up to the docks.”

“What are the local commanders doing about it?”

“The Belgian army is now out there with picks and shovels trying to get the tracks cleaned off.” 

“You gotta be kidding?” Okay, this I gotta see for myself. Got up from the desk, “Jo get Sgt Ellis and meet me down at the car in about...” checked my watch and made a mental calculation.” In about 20 minutes.”

“Yes Sir,” she left and went to find my driver. The good Sergeant Ellis I’ve kept by my side. As a Montanan, he is silent, watchful and rather handy with a shooten iron. Having once seen him pick off a rather pesky gentleman who was sitting in a tree waiting for us to drive under so he could toss an explosive pack on us. Couldn’t figure out which long list of organizations he belonged to, as there wasn’t much left of him after this pack went off. Sargeant Ellis having driven this way enough, noticed him in the tree and stopped the car a goodly enough distance away that our ‘friend’ would have to have a throwing arm like Johnny Unitas to do damage. So he got out, went to the trunk and pulled out his Sharps rifle.

“Were a present from my grand-daddy,” Ellis confided in a rare moment of long (for him) conversation. “He got it from his daddy who carried it in the War Between the States when he was in Company C of the 1st US Sharpshooters.” The Sharpes was a beauty; well cared for and loved by the men (and more then a few ladies) in his family to pass down to the generations. Anyway, after one shot and a holler was sent out to let the guy know to come down and when he didn’t...well....with the next one, the tree got the trimming of its life, our bomber got turned into fertilizer and I was only 10 minutes late to the office.

In the mean time, back to the present, went over to the garment bag that was hanging on the coat rack. Inside were my fatigues, starched crisp and the two stars on the collar just waiting for the third. Unloosed the tie and pulled it up over my head, oh that felt great. Hate ties. They’re just nooses waiting for someone to drop the trap door out from under you. Have worn fatigues for most of the years I spent in this alphas army and they feel like a second skin. Stripped down to my skivvies, unlaced the boots and stood for a moment looking down at the small pot gut that wasn’t there just a year ago. Suck it in Winchester, you got a job to do. Got dressed, then strapped on the web belt with the 45 on my hip, ahhhhh, that’s better. Now feel like a solder. 

Pulled on the field jacket, took the baseball cap out of the pocket and set it squarely on my head. Took a deep breath and walked out to meet Jo and Sargeant Ellis at the car. The road was slick and prolly wouldn’t take much for us to be spinning out or sliding down the strass sideways. But the trusty Peugeot 504 staff car was a rather sure footed beast, but then again with all the iron plating welded to it, the thing better be. Pulled up to Dock 10 to find the SS American Corsair coated in ice. It looked kinda pretty that way...but it and we ain’t here for a beauty contest.

Ellis found a place to park the car where it wouldn’t get in the way of any trucks, cranes or fork lifts. Get out and start looking for whoever is commanding this circle jerk. Went toward the sound of medal hitting ice. Came upon a cluster of tents and a company size group of men slinging picks, shovels hammers and chisels. Nice that the Belgian army has taken the field to get the ball rolling, now where are the American troops who came over on that floating popcicle?

The guys slinging the tools didn’t pay any attention to my arrival, which is fine, need them to be working instead of dropping their tools and cheese eating to their officers. Didn’t see an officer or NCO one out here, course that’s gonna change. My little group and I followed our noses into largest of the warming tents to see who was in charge here and why aren’t they aren’t out there supervising. Inside the tent was a roar of men talking and standing about while some female Belgian solders behind tables were ladling up soup and coffee. Noticed the table away from the others where I’m suspecting the officers are sitting. Yup, recognize the insignias on their coats. Also notice a couple of American officers sitting there too.

Wove my way through the crowd until was standing next to a rather boisterous captain of the us army. Tapped him on the shoulder, “ah beat it.” He brushed my hand away without looking up. Interesting. Tapped his shoulder again. “I said beat it, I’m................”

“Fucked.” I said simply as this time he did look up. His mouth dropped open so wide could see his tonsils. 

Now the table popped to attention as the rest of the room went dead silent and the disrespectful son of a bitch braced like a Norwich Rook. I glowered at his name tape as if it personally offended me and then went right in his face. “What’s your name?” Not ‘captain’ or ‘solder’ or ‘trooper’, you lost my respect and now you better start trying to earn it back. 

“Peter Jenkins, Sir!” Presumptuous little alpha prick.

“REPORT!” I bellowed. “Who’s in charge of this cluster fuck!?”

“I am, Generaal Majoor Winchester,” one of the Belgian officers came around the table with the air of a man headed toward the wrong end of a firing squad. Give the guy credit, if he was going out, it would be with the manners of an old world gentleman “Majoor Gerardus Mercator, 11th Engineer Battalion.” 

“Majoor Mercator,” I returned his salute. “Need to know what we’re up against here. How much of the rail line is compromised, what parts-if any- are not and how long will it take to clear track so the ship can be off loaded and equipment put on rail cars?” The Majoor turned to one of his officers, gave a command (think I caught a word or two...‘map’ being one of em) and the guy scampered off like his tail was on fire.

“Ku’k e kir etwa fraagh’n (Excuse me) Generaal?” The good thing about being at NATO is that you get a crash course in languages, a lot of em...usually all yapping at the same time. I’ve learned enough so that I can now order a beer in seven different languages. (Bir-Yiddish, Bier-Flemish and German, Biere-French, Bira-Turkish, Cerveza-Spanish and Birra-Italian) It’s great to be multi lingual. 

Turned and there was a Belgian female Korporaal-Chef. “Joat?”(Yes?) Korporaal-Chef......” Looked at her name tape....“Van Draak?” 

“Soepe?” (Soup) She held up a heavy sided porcelain mug with the smell of something wonderful wafting from it.

“Merci,” took the cup, blew on it and took a sip. Mmmm, a thick vegetable broth with carrots, potatoes and onions. Forgot I didn’t have much breakfast this morning. Drank it slowly, savoring the simple taste and giving me a moment to get my thoughts in line. Also to let Captain Jenkins squirm a bit longer. “Majoor Mercator, is there an NCO out there with work gang right now?”

“Not that I know of Sir.” Could tell by the look on his face, the Majoor knew it was the wrong answer. He quickly barked an order, pointed at NCO who quickly bolted from the tent. Yeah, get your ass out there and do your fucken job. It wasn’t more then a few minutes later that the officer returned with the maps. 

“How long have the men out there been working?” 

The Majoor checked his watch,“about an hour Sir.”

“Alright, get em in here to warm up and have something hot to drink. In the mean time, get these gold bricks out there to take over.” The maps were spread out on the table. I took one more sip of broth before setting the mug down on the edge of one of the maps to hold it open. Glanced over at Captain Jenkins, “why don’t you go out with the men and show em how the bear does in the buck wheat.” In short, “get out of my sight. So maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll forget you exist.” 

The guy disappeared like he was Judge Crater. 

 

Anthony Toominelli  
Port of Antwerp  
SS American Corsair  
Dock 10  
Antwerp, Belgium  
22 January 1979  
13:20 Central European Time

 

Was standing at the bow of the ship getting some fresh air, could care less if the rain was still coming down and it was freezing on my coat and cap. Just had to get out of the ships hold for a little while. Was trying to get some of the busted up equipment repaired all while attempting to get batteries on the other vehicles charged, WHEN NO ONE ELSE BUT ME KNOWS HOW......sorry. Just got on my very last nerve.

The maintenance manuals for deuce and a halfs, five tons and pick me up trucks some how never made it on board. Some chuckle head (read ‘officer’) made the ‘command decision’ they weren’t needed/over looked/the dog ate em, so that now nobody knows how to start the mother fuckers. Except me. Always me. The ‘old boot’, the boy from Chi-town, all because I have the magic touch with getting crap started in the cold. I had lots of practice getting Pop’s Rambler started in the dead of winter.

“Sargeant Toominelli?” It was Private Lewis, one of my guys from Third Platoon. He’d brought up a thermos and cups from the mess. “Want some coffee? Cookie made it fresh.” At this point, need something to keep awake. Even if it was the battery acid that passed for java on this tub. Had I known this was going to be the ‘Charlie Foxtrot’ it turned into, would have let a truck roll over my foot when we were loading up in Port Arthur, Texas. My platoon had been chosen to stay with the equipment on its transported over here. Everyone else in B Troop got to fly over. The lucky SOB’s. My platoon leader spent the whole trip in bed, first being sea sick and then just being laid up from the resulting dehydration. He was dragged off to the hospital the minute the ship docked. Which left me charge to get his show on the road.

Sipped the coffee and idly watched the port traffic and the Belgians try to get the rail road tracks clear of ice. Apparently this is the worst winter Europe has seen in years and the biggest ice storm Belgium has had in decades. That’s when I noticed this ugly gray car pull up beside one of the warehouses and stop. This chick in uniform gets out and opens the door for this officer to get out of the back. “Lewis, you still have those field glasses on ya?” The Private had been bird watching earlier, not like there was anything around other then seagulls and some weird Barnacle goose thing in the water the he got all excited over. Lewis hand me the binoculars and I trained them on the gray car, focusing on the officer who’d gotten out of the back.

“Why I’ll be dipped in government shit, that’s General Winchester!”

“Who’s that?” The private took the field glasses back. “Lemme see.” He stood there for a moment before handing back the glasses. “Huh, he doesn’t look like much. What’s the deal about this guy?”

“You mean other then he’s the former commander of the ‘Big Numro Uno’, a big mucky muck at NATO and the reason for me getting my rocker.” I tapped the E-6 strips on my jacket sleeve. “It was his letter of commendation that got me this baby.” Lewis had gotten to the platoon only three months ago, so I can excuse him for his ignorance of my greatness. 

“What did you do that was so boss?”

“I rescued this ROTC cadet from the ghost cav* back in the summer of 77.”

“You gotta be yanken my crank.” Lewis snorted, “you really don’t believe in that shit do you?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s hard to believe until you’ve seen it and I have more then once. Wait till the next alert and we’re sitting out at the Kansas River near Troopers Ford. You’ll see em then.” Course couldn’t help but let my thoughts coast to those few brief hours at the O’Hare Airport Hilton where I got to sample the fine wares of officers pussy. Pregnant omegas and sex, gotta love em. As compared to pregnant betas; I’d say about as horny. Gina is five months a long and about wore ‘Little Tony’ down to a nub. So when the orders came down for REFORGER, I was all in for the trip. Right up until we got this clown show on the road.

Took the field glasses back to watch the General and his tick birds make their way toward and then into the big warming tent. It wasn’t more then a moment or two later that this guy rushes out, slips and falls on his ass, gets back up and tears off down the road. Oooooo, looks like ‘Ole John’ is bringing smoke because it wasn’t too much longer before more guys are pouring out, taking the pick axes and shovels from the guys already out there. Huh, must be changing the guard. Well, I’ll be damned, there’s even some captain out there taking one of the shovels. Fuck a duck, The Ice Capades must be playing in Hell.

 

Benny Lafitte  
Observation Post Alpha  
Third Squad, A Troop  
1st Squadron 11th ACR  
Fulda Gap  
West Germany  
22 January 1979  
13:20 Central European Time

 

Came off patrol to find there was a message waiting for me at the tank barn to come to the Squadron commanders office toot sweet or at least by 13:30. Oops, better get hopping. It were cold cold as a bankers heart out there today. Even the East Germans didn’t seem interested in putting up the usual front of ‘we be hostile’. Today, they be like us, froze froze half to death. Besides, it be no fun no more since the concrete guard towers went up in our sector. It was so funny watching the wooden ones sway un coup de vent and fall down. Bust me a gut just thinking about it.

Decided to skip getting a driver, signed out a jeep and got myself off the hill to pass by Downs Barracks. It was nice to get to think my own thoughts for a little bit, not have to be daddy, mommy and padre to a bunch of fully growed men. Only gots a few more days up up on ‘gobblers knob’ and then we trade off to B troop. Then I can get home to Andrea. Maybe I can slip in and see her for a bit. In her last letter, she say she fine but being pregnant alone in a strange place, it ain’t good for a body. Specially a body carrying my pup.

Show my id and state my business at the guard shack, get waived through by the MP. Got to make a pass by the PX and pick up some Charman. All we have is the issue stuff, it be like ‘John Wayne’, rough tough and takes no shit from anybody. Plus it help keep your feet toasty in the boots. Drove on and found First Squadrons HQ, got a parking spot and went in. Presented myself to the clerk and First Sargeant, then was told to go into the captains office.

Knocked, opened the door and was surprised to find Rich Kent and that couillon George Richardson there too. How that boy make it out of Texas A & M is a mystery right up there with the de Virgin Birth. He momma must have been dropped dropped him on his head when he was born. Behind the desk was Squadron Commander Alexander Carrol, he be from Texarkana, Arkansas, but that ain’t his fault so, can’t hold no mind agin him. “Lt Lafitte reporting as ordered Sir.” I gave him my snappiest salute.

“At ease lieutenant,” Captain Carrol returned the salute and then pointed to a chair. “Have a seat. As I was starting to tell Lt’s Kent and Richardson the REFORGER exercise is having some problems. The First Cavalry Division and the Third Armored Battalion from the Big Red One are in need of track vehicles for a little while. The bad weather has side tracked their equipment from being off loaded at the Ports of Amsterdam and Antwerp. We’ve been tasked with assisting with this problem.”

“So they come looking for a cup of sugar.” Something didn’t feel right about this. “But couldn’t they share vehicles with the Canadians or Germans? They’re part of this whole war games too. We’s allies after all. Hell, could even ask the Brits.”

“You’re nothing if not perceptive and that option has been considered,” the Captain said steepling his fingers. “Let’s just say command wants it to look like this was part of the whole plan all along. That this was just a little ‘curve ball’ tossed in to have everybody think outside the box.” Meaning they didn’t wanna look bad in front of the people we’re suppose to be better then. “There’s a delegation from First Cav coming down to pick up the vehicles from Third Squadron, as their part of the exercise is taking place in this neck of the woods. First Infantry is down at Hof, you three will pick a team, vehicles and put em on ‘dragon wagons’ to get down there. Any questions?”

“Why can’t they come up and get the tracks?” Richardson sounded like he didn’t wanna make this little trip. “Why do we have to go?”  
.  
“Because they don’t have the equipment to piggyback tanks or APC’s and time wise for them it’s not feasible. Even through we’ve got a lot of folks down with the flu and still have the mission up at OP Alpha, 1st Squadron has been tapped for the mission. Pick your teams, no more then three from your squads, get loaded and get em down to Hof. See my clerk about your orders, you need to be down there by tomorrow at 15:00. You’ll report to the XO of the Third Armored Battalion. Use the conference room down the hall to coordinate a plan.” 

We’re to take a tank and two APC’s on each ‘dragon wagon’ a jeep as lead vehicle and another in the rear. Also a deuce and a half with repair parts. We would also be staying down there and join the exercise attached to their Headquarters Company until the Mech boys get their equipment. 

“Gentleman this is a great opportunity for you. One that would show your logistical and leadership skills. I suggest you make the most of it.” Captain Carrol, stood. “I also suggest you get your defecation in sequence, the clock is ticking gentlemen. Dismissed.” 

The three of us jumped to our feet, saluted and was about to hustle out of his office when the Captain called out......“Lafitte, you’re in charge this operation.”

“Me?” I squeaked. But it were a manly squeak.

“Yeah, why him....” Richardson sounded like it was personal affront and the ‘why not me?’ hung heavily in the air. 

Our captain was nothing if not an honest son of a bitch, evil but honest. “Cuz Lafitte had a good question, Kent there had enough sense to keep quiet and you sounded like you didn’t wanna go. Which kicked you out of the running faster then Ex-lax through a goose. Now, get gone!”

Grabbed our paperwork from the clerk and then headed down the hallway to the conference room. 

 

Lewiston and Jenny Reynolds  
Joint Forces Command  
Northwood, Eastbury,  
Hertfordshire, England  
22 January 1979  
13:20 Greenwich Mean Time

“Now is the winter of our discontent,” the memory of those words that night at Ebbitts Grill** back in Washington DC continues to haunt me. My clandestine meeting with Fergus Crowley, the knowledge that came with it and my fall from grace for a small taste of power. I stood at the ships aft staring moodily out at the dark water of the English Channel. Was taking the night ferry out of Brussels Central Station to London. There was a meeting of the chiefs of the Joint Forces Command and my General was abed with the grip, so I had to go. Jenny came along as she’s going to visit her father and mother, they have this drafty old Tudor up on Redhall Lane in Chandlers Cross. Can see why they tended to spend more time away then there. 

Was advised to take the car ferry and our motor car with some jerry cans full petrol in the boot as there were shortages of late. Apparently it was not all beer and sandwiches at Number 10 these days. Things have been dodgy lately with the labor unions, as Callaghan and his Labor Party have not been successful in dealing with them. Would not be surprised if there was a vote of no confidence on its way sooner then later.

Had been following the crisis (or as one newspaper headline declared ‘Crisis, What Crisis?) as the weather and labor problems worsened. Seems like everyone was unionized, not just the cloth cap blokes, it was nurses, office workers and a like. It was a wonder the troops didn’t demand a union. And now everyone wants an increase but the government can’t give it to them because of inflation. Not that I could blame em, would like a little something more in my pay packet too, but I can’t just walk away from the desk with a placard proclaiming a better wage.

Stood there until Jenny came to collect me. “Come along Darling,” she said gently, sending scent across my nose and linking her fingers in mine. “Before you’re froze solid. Whatever it is dashing about in there,” her fingers lightly tapped my forehead. “Can wait until tomorrow.”

“Mouse,” leaned down and nuzzled her warm cheek to my cold one. “Have I told you enough that I love you?”

“There is never enough times one can hear that,” my good mate said teasingly. “But come to bed and I’ll tell you again about my evening at the Winchesters with Castiel. Couldn’t get down to our stateroom fast enough. 

The next morning we joined everyone at the canteen to get tea and toast for a bit of breakfast. Sigh, all they have is strawberry jelly and marge. Take the mug, move the bag, get a sip of tea and cringe, builders tea. Have to add a slop of armored cow or the stuff would be impossible to drink. Break off a piece of toast, put on a bit of marge then jelly and tuck in.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ferrys captain had come into the canteen to make an announcement. “If you are going to and any where near the House of Commons today, the morning news reader at BBC Radio 4 suggests to either avoid the area entirely or schedule more time to arrive, as today is the National Day of Action and very large crowd will be at the St Stephens Entrance. 

“National Day of Action?” Jenny called over to the captain. “What’s that?”

“A strike,” he answered. “A general strike that has not been seen in this country since 1926. My old dad said that was a bad one and this one is shaping up to be just like it.” Then he added, “for those going to the West End mind the piles of garbage. The dustmen are on strike too.” 

What the bloody hell is going on in this country?

The dockers were on strike too, so it took a bit to get the ferry up to the port and off loaded. Normally we’d be on our way by 08:00 but today it was more along the lines 09:30. Not in a panic however, the meeting at Northwood wasn’t until 13:30. The North Circular Road had not been cleared all that well, apparently the chaps who drive the snowploughs and gritters must be part job action too. Well, if this car make make it through a Kansas winter unscathed (and my mates extremely heavy foot and ill temper in car parks) then we shall persevere.

It was shortly after 11 o’clock when we pulled into the drive on Redhall Lane. I want a drink. Don’t care that it’s before noon and usually have only one pint at lunch. No, after almost skidding into the roadside ditch, nearly hitting a post box and coming within a hairs breath of side swiping a lorry, I need something other then just a stiff upper lip. My dearest Mate, woman that I love more then life it’s self, mother to.....oh you bloody know the rest.....was sitting with the grim determination that one only sees when you’re in the thick of it and the only way out is forward.

The BMW hadn’t even come to a full stop when Mouse flung open the car door, stepped out, slipped on a patch of ice, righted herself and marched over to the front door, giving the knocker what for. Then when no one came fast enough, she kicked it like one of those SWAT fellows you see on the telly. The house may have been from the 1600’s but the door apparently was not. It gave like wet cardboard and was no match for an omega with eons of genetic anger on her side.

Got to the entrance to find her dad already pulling a large piece of marine plywood out of a hall built in to cover the gaping hole. “Gets it from her mum,” Father Moore said proudly, nailing it into place. Huh, it fit perfectly. “Have to pop to Jewson’s Hardware at least three times a year to get a new door because of those two. They give me a tradesmen discount now.”

Straightway I head for the gin that is usually on the side board in the parlor, only to find Mouse has found it already and drinking right from the bottle. I would’ve mentioned about this behavior being very much below her station except that Mother Moore was right there, telling her to mind her manners and leave a bit for her old mum. Who pinched the bottle and swigged it like a sailor. Luckily there was some Pimm’s, so at least got a mouthful before her father came to claim the bottle. Right selfish old bastard.

We all proceeded to get very drunk. Father Moore called Northwood to let them know I’d caught the grip and would be just the tiniest bit late, only to find out the meeting had been canceled anyway. Something about the work action, bad roads and a reschedule for tomorrow at 13:30. As Johnny Winchester would say: “son of a bitch!”  
, 

 

Eric Reynolds  
52 Courtfield Gardens  
Flat Two  
South Kensington  
London, England SW4  
January 22nd, 1979  
13:20 Greenwich Mean Time

 

“THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE YOU FUCKEN FAT HEAD!” Have learned something new today. A ghost can hit another ghost. And by the Alpha God, it hurts! The Yank socked me across the jaw and kicked me in the bollocks. “You’ve done in nine days what Heaven and Hell couldn’t do in 35 years. I’m taking a powder!”

Think that means he no longer wants to be flat mates. “What have I done wrong?” Nursed my aching nads. All we’ve do is play cards, smoke and had a bit of the old rumpy pumpy with some of the people who’d come to see about renting the flat.

“YOU’RE A SELFISH SON OF A BITCH IS WHAT IS WRONG!” Captain Joe (no relation to the boxer) Lewis said waving his arms about and causing all the cast off fliers and dust to swirl about. “You let everyone know we’re here! First rule in being a successful spook is not bringing attention to yourself. And you’ve done that in spades!”

“So I had a bit of a lark with that last letting agent,” I squeaked. Come on voice, something a bit more manly and less Vienna Boys Choir. Lit up a fag, alright, think I can make it now. “It was worth the look on his face and the fall down the stairs.”

“You Dumb Dora!” The captain paced to and fro. “You not only twirled your tassels you showed the whole tit! Now they’re going to bring someone in to give us the bums rush. That guy is prolly on the ameche right now to bring someone in.”

“Ooooooo! They’re bringing in Harry Price or Peter Underwood or Leonard Nimoy, I’m so scared!”

“You should be,” Lewis said darkly. “I’ve had my ear to the ground for years and right now the scuttlebutt the spooks are jaw jacking about is this couple named Warren. Apparently they’re the real McCoy and they’re here in England right now and don’t be surprised if they come walking through that door.”

I snorted dismissively, “oh what can they do to me? I’m dead and beyond their reach.”

“No you’re not moron, you’re right in their wheel house. I’m going and it you stick around any longer you’re goose gone.” That’s when a very bright light suddenly appeared and Captain Lewis walked toward it. “Ma? Pa? It’s me. I’m so sorry....I....it’s...oh it’s good to see you too. I missed you something awful.” And with that, he walked through and was gone. Huh, bastard took the fags with him. At least he left me the cards.

 

Calvin Chickadee aka Benjamin Winchester Chickadee  
Moon Junior High School  
NE 13th Street  
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma USA  
22 January 1978  
01.20 PM Central Standard Time

 

When we fought the Yankees and annihilation was near,  
Who was there to lead the charge that took us safe to the rear?  
Why it was Jubilation T. Cornpone;  
Old "Toot your own horn - pone."  
Jubilation T. Cornpone, a man who knew no fear! 

 

That’s me up on stage singing. I get to be Marrying Sam in our school’s musical ‘Lil Abner’. Even if my voice cracks a little, actually that’s what got me the part. Miss Stanton, she’s directing and is the adviser to the drama club, thought it was the funniest thing she ever heard when I tried out.

Auntie Sawyer thinks we should’ve done ‘Bubbling Brown Sugar’ or ‘Porgy and Bess’ but Uncle Sawyer thinks that ‘Lil Abner’ is just fine and laughs over it every morning when he reads the funny pages in The Oklahoman. Auntie thinks the funny pages are too....low brow and...bush...borsh...bush-wa-zee, that’s it, and isn’t worth her time. (Auntie thinks EVERYTHING is bush-wa-zee) Uncle just tells her to get the stick out of her ass, Auntie then tells him he hasn’t had a stick worth putting up her ass in years. Then Uncle sez ‘oh yeah?!’ Then he swats her on the butt, she whacks him over the head with the newspaper and he chases her into the bedroom.

That’s when I go outside or over to my friend Greg Johnsons house. He got a Tele-Game for Christmas and we can play Pong or Tank right in the living room without having to go to the bowling alley. Or spend a bunch of quarters.

When we almost had 'em but the issue still was in doubt,  
Who suggested the retreat that turned it into a rout?  
Why it was Jubilation T. Cornpone;  
Old "Tattered and torn - pone."  
Jubilation T. Cornpone, he kept us hidin' out! 

Got a letter from Cousin Caleb and a picture of Win. Pup is growing like a weed, he is. Cousin Caleb is out in Hawaii with the 25th Infantry Division, he shoots cannons, his mate Marigold is out there too. She’s in Military Intelligence, which her mom and dad (Uncle and Auntie Sawyer) think is the funniest thing they ever heard and that some guy named George Carlin was right. What’s Military Intelligence got to do with ‘jumbo shrimp’?

I keep Win’s picture in my wallet, so he’s always close to my heart. Though you’d think if he was close to my heart I wouldn’t keep his picture in my wallet cuz I sit on that. Werid. Anywho, also heard the detective man who’d been looking for me came snooping around Brooksville again. He still wanted to ‘dig’ me and Win up. Also heard he went out to the rez with a court order but nobody seed him since. His rented car turned up back at Will Rogers Airport Avis lot but no one knows how it got there. The Pottawatomie county sheriff and rez police told the Oklahoma Highway Patrol it was a mystery indeed.

Hearing that a Northern spy had come to town for the night  
Who gained entrance to her room and lost the glorious fight?  
Why it was Jubilation T. Cornpone; Old "Weary and worn – pone.  
" Jubilation T. Cornpone, he fought all through the night!

I got a girl friend, well I gotta friend, who’s a girl. Stephanie Clark lives up the block and we walk to the bus stop together. She likes me because we both like the same kinda music and football and books. We haven’t kissed or anything dumb like that, she’s a beta and I really would like to be with an alpha again....someday. Maybe, after I’ve played in the NFL a few years and don’t have to drink that tea that makes me smell like a beta any more. Mr Mad Bear also gave me a plug that fits in my hole so that when the team doctor does the ‘turn your head and cough’ thing his fingers don’t slip in.

Who became so famous with a reputation so great,  
That he ran for president and didn't carry a state?  
Why it was Jubilation T. Cornpone;  
Old "Wouldn't be sworn - pone."  
Jubilation T. Cornpone, he made the country wait! 

I gotta get to history class in another ten minutes. A bunch of us who had a free period at the same time, went to practice the lines early at the auditorium before rehearsals after school. In class, we’re talking about how a president gets elected, the electrical college and all the junk. I guess you can win the regular vote but still lose the electrical one. Weird. But the teacher says it’s the way things were set up to protect the country so that big states don’t jump all over the little states and hog everything. Okay, that sounds fair. Auntie sez it’s bush-waaa-zee (again) and where is some guy named Trotsky when you need him? Uncle sez he’s dead and was an asshole any way.

 

Jubilation T. Cornpone, (big ending now) heeee really saaaaaaaved the daaaaay! (Jazz hands.)

 

Chickie and Elliot Rogers  
Wainwright Hall  
318 Jackson Ave, Bldg 50  
Fort Myers, Virginia USA  
22 January 1979  
13:20 Eastern Standard Time

 

“Ohhhh Lucy I’m home!” Came through the door of our little love nest on the second floor of Wainwright Hall on Fort Myers. Had gone out to the commissary for a few groceries and Class 6 package store to pick up a few bottles of wine and couple of White Owls cigars. Got into the habit a few months ago and now it’s kinda hard to put down. At this point, I’m still considered Chickie’s dependent, but this coming December, I get my commission and will out rank him. Or at least until he becomes Doctor Rogers and then he’ll get his captaincy

Nice that Chickie still has a connection to the Senator from the great state of ‘Oh My Goodness’ and that he had no hard feelings when I called his bluff to give up The Citadel in order to win the hand (and all the other good parts) of the fair Valentine Peaches Marie now Rogers. He’s my Valentine every day of the year, but I still can’t get passed calling him Chickie. Now that I was going to be a pharmacy intern at Walter Reed Army Hospital starting next Monday, we needed a better place to stay other then the BOQ if both of us weren’t gonna kill each other.

So, he pulled a few strings to get Chickie out of the cramped little studio at Fort Leslie McNair and into a slightly less cramped suite here on the second floor of Wainwright Hall here on Fort Myers. Which I tell you is a huge step up from the Q. As this is where the brass all stay when on TDY and a few privileged characters like my darlin. It’s like the best hotel room you’ve ever stayed in and I ain’t talking the Holiday Inn either. There is a kitchenette with a small fridge, microwave oven and a two burner hot plate. There is also a balcony that’s the perfect place to smoke a cigar and have a great view of Arlington National Cemetery.

Which all I can think of most times is ‘On Flanders Field where poppies grow.....”

Anyway, set the grocery bags on top of the fridge and glanced over into the sitting room/bedroom. My sweet mate is sitting at the work desk glowering at the papers, magazines and text books strewn across the top like the stuff personally insulted him. Must be one hell of a homework assignment. “Hi there Doll, what’s up? You look like someone stole the last canape and left you nothing but an empty dish.” My sweetheart do love a good canape.

“Elliot,” he looked up, “It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve checked every thing and it shouldn’t be.”

“What shouldn’t be.......what?” Leaned in and kissed his nose. 

“This.” My Darlin waved at all the stuff on the desk. “Got an assignment from one of my professors, Dr Kirkpatrick to review something he was working on and give my opinion.” Not bad for a first year med student. “This guy is dead from diseases usually only found in malnourished children and women using Rely Tampons.” Yikes. Now that’s a combination.

Chickie handed me what turned out to be an autopsy report. Huh, dead guy is between 12 and 16, wow, no more then just a pup. 155 pounds, five foot eight inches tall. Not malnourished. But cause of death in part was.....Toxic Shock Syndrome from an infection brought on from having a foreign object perforate the vaginal and intestinal walls releasing wastes into the body. His immune system seems to have been compromised by opportunistic pathogens. His white blood cells, which should’ve been insanely high, were almost non existent. The same way with the MHC Class 2 T cells, zip-zam-zero. It appears what really put the nail in the guys coffin was the Pneumocystis Pneumonia. Which was brought on not only by the pathogen but by.....“Bleach?”

“Levels like this are usually only seen in Turkish cleaning ladies.”

Continued to read, then re-read the same paragraph again. “This guy is a surgically altered beta?”

Chickie nodded. “Dr Kirkpatrick is consultanting with Army CID over at Quanico. He wrote a paper years back with several of his colleagues about opportunistic pathogens and got called in on this. I’m his first year ‘man Friday’, he’s got several other of his ‘Fridays’ -med school students and interns- looking at it too. But I’m the only one with this information about the secondary gender surgery.” He looked at me hard, “promise me you’ll keep this on the QT?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Someone is selling phony omegas over in Europe and they’re starting to show up over here. Only a lot of em are showing up dead.”

Oh my dear Alpha God! “But why did he tell you?”

“Cuz Kirkpatrick knows I can keep my mouth shut and if clout is needed, I got the Senator on my side.” Felt a little bummed at that moment. It’s nice the guy likes to help, but I’m.....“more importantly, you’ll be over at ‘Walter Wonderful’. You are going to have access to places other won’t and can keep your ears and eyes peeled. You my young Lochinvar, are my secret weapon.” He pulled me on to his lap to nuzzle noses, “my little bundle of Yankee.” He gently blew scent across my face, “what do you think about having relations?” OH HELL YEAH!

We did IT right there on the desk, on all that paperwork and an open window. Quite masterfully, I might add, making my dear omega scream with pleasure. Well right up until the couple in the room next door started up. Oh my Alpha God, they were louder and hollering things that would make a sailor blush. Had to stop midway because we were dying of the giggles.

And of course my Darlin summed it up nicely. “They’re a bunch of red assed barbarians. Oh don’t close the window Honey, I GOTTA hear the rest of this.” Never let it be said that Valentine Peaches Marie Rogers is not a gentleman, an omega of rare breeding and a bit of a red assed barbarian himself. Though I’d never say THAT part aloud. 

 

Karen and Bobby Singer  
Singer Salvage Yard  
Sioux Falls, South Dakota  
January 22nd 1979  
13:20 er 01:20 PM CST  
they’re civilians now, damn it.

 

Damn it’s colder then a well diggers ass up on the DMZ in Korea. Usually get the Christmas lights down from outside long before this, but it’s been too cold. Though that’s not an excuse for all the Christmas shit that is still up on the inside of the house. The tree’s about shed all its needles and it looking like a piece of Swedish modern furniture. Yeah, that’s gotta go.

Karen’s taken down all the cards we’d gotten this year (they were hanging on the swinging door to the kitchen) and was writing down the names and addresses in the notebook we’d had for years for such things. Added a fresh page each year as new names came in, the old ones dropped out and addresses changed. One of the guys I went to boot camp with, several that had survived the wars-pick one of the last three-and the rest were the ROTC pups who’d graduated over the last seven years and still remembered me every December.

There were Polaroids and snap shots, those stupid newsletters everyone feels compelled to write or just a brief message in a card: ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘remember that little cross eyed whore in Pusan?’ Greetings like that brings a warm sport to my ole heart.

Normally, she’ll catalog the lot, toss out most of em but keep a few cards and pictures. This time, Karen sat at the kitchen table with this years crop of pictures and cards, but there were tears rolling down her face as she’s writing.

Oh balls. What have I done? Went through my current list of sins, then the old one and nothing worth getting the water works out for. Got drunk, swore at a customer and got drunk. Yup, pretty much it. Maybe it was her ‘time of life’, heard stories about ladies going through that. They cry one minute and bite your head off the next. No, Karen has been pretty much on an even keel. Except she will get on baking jags. Which my ever growing pot gut can attest to.

Buck up old man and ask her. You got...or have in a drawer now....the medals saying you’re a big brave guy. A tattoo and the scars to prove I’ve been there, done that and lived to tell the tale. “Baby, is some thing wrong?”

“Oh Bobby,” she sobbed. “Where has the time gone?” 

Was about to say somethin stupid like, “where it usually goes.” But then, got her meaning. Where were those two crazy pups who ran off, got hitched before I shipped out to fight the war in Europe? The people who’d lost everything, gained the world and were father and mother confessor to generations of young folks with big eyes and bigger dreams.

“Who are we any more?” I know that one all too well. It’s not that Sioux Falls isn’t nice or welcoming. It’s just....not standing up for the national anthem at the movies (embarrassed myself that first time we went) not being ‘Sargeant Major’ and being closed out of a close knit community. Now, I’m just that grouchy old drunk in the salvage yard.

We knew who we were, but what about now? Who are Karen and Bobby Singer on 22 January 1979? “I don’t know Honey, but do you wanna have a drink with me and maybe we can maybe figure it out?”

 

Sharon and Bry-Ann Whitman  
117 Milrace Drive  
East Rochester, New York  
January 22nd 1979  
01:20 PM Eastern Standard Time

The weather sucks balls, I’m in bed with a cold...the flu....the creeping crud? I don’t know but it still sssuuuuuucccks. You know what else sucks? Sharon. Mostly because she doesn’t....suck, or present or any thing right now. We haven’t had sex in weeks. Last time was Christmas Eve at my parents house. That was only because she had couple of beers. Okay, have to admit there was that one time she was asleep and I kinda sorta played ‘hide the salami’ but pulled out before I came so she wouldn’t find out. 

I would describe it as ‘postcard sex’. You know, ‘having fun, wish you were here’.

Anywho, after feeling like shit for the last few days, I’m taking today off from class to get better and hopefully shake enough of this to be able to go in tomorrow. As part of command staff, am helping plan the trip up to Fort Drum in April. This year want to be able to pack a lot into that weekend. Even a short night exercise, ‘Charlie’ ain’t gonna own the night in Fort Drum, New York, if I have anything to say about it.

Okay, to be fair about Sharon, she has been busy with classes. What the hell, so have I. This quarter has been a bitch; papers to write, presentations to give and then the reading assignments. Then keeping up with ROTC thing, yeah it’s been a bitch.

That’s when I hear the door bell go off. Maybe I’ll just ignore it and they’ll go away. After a few moments, can hear a key push into the lock and the front door open and....... “Yooooohoooooooo,” oh shit! It’s my monster-in-law, Celia Franklin. What’s she doing here? “Bry-Ann? It’s me!” No defecation Holmes. Drag myself out of bed, throw on a bathrobe and stumble out.

Celia is standing there looking bright and chipper in a fashionable pair of canary yellow ski pants (the kind where you don’t go skiing in) and a sweater that Mork from Ork should be wearing. “Hi Celia,” I said miserably. “What are you doing here? It’s great to see you” (no it’s not) “but....aren’t you a long way from home?”

Could see she had a suitcase in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. That’s not a good sign. “Oh Sharon called and said you were sick and needed someone to look after you. She’s going to be staying with a friend in the dorms for the next few days so she doesn’t come down with whatever you have.”

WHAT THE EVER LOVEN FUCK?! “She didn’t tell me that!” Oh you are gonna have some ‘splaining to do Lucy’ when you get home!

“Well, you weren’t feeling all that wonderful last day or two and she didn’t want to upset you.” As opposed to NOW? “Or catch what you have.” Which is the reason Sharon gave as to why she slept out on the couch the past couple of nights.

“But it’s okay for you to get sick?” Oops, did that slip out? Celia however didn’t seem to mind and bulldozed right through it.

“I haven’t been sick in years and have taken care of enough grand pups and Irv without so much as a sniffle.” Yeah, I’ll bet. Prolly brought it home to Irv which is why he got sick. “Alright, back to bed. Brought some ginger ale, chicken soup and this, my secret weapon to cure anything!” She pulled a yellow can out of the grocery bag, “mustard for a plaster. It’ll burn the devil out of anything.”

“But I’m not possessed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she dismissively. “It would if you were.”

I think I got well in self defense. Not that it wasn’t nice to have someone care about and for me, but.................CELIA TOOK OVER THE HOUSE! She went through the closets-organizing our clothes by color, almost threw out all my Playboys and ‘Megas if I hadn’t stopped her, AND WORSE! Rearranged the living room furniture! Who does that to a person?!

Sharon came through the front door two days later about an hour after her mother left. “Hi Sweetheart,” she sang as she came through the front door. “Are you feeling better?”

Probably shouldn’t have laughed as hard as I did watching her fall over the foot stool that her mother insisted on putting right in the middle of where we normally walked through the living room. “I am now.”

 

Tarah Buser Rushmore  
8150 Springvalley Dr  
Cincinnati, Ohio  
January 22nd  
Monday 01:20 EST

“Welcome home Mrs Rushmore,” Mark is soooooo romantic. Even through we’d been driving all day and part of the night, he insisted on carrying me over the threshold into our new house. As a wedding present, his parents and mine chipped in together for the $2000 down payment so we could get the loan from the bank. “Got this beauty for $80,000 and with your VA loan, we have the 10 percent interest rate instead of 12. Just think, in 30 years, it’ll all be ours.”.

I am thinking about it, which is why I gotta find a job PDQ. We’d gotten back from our honeymoon, two days ago, stopped by my parents house to pick up our wedding gifts, my bedroom set and the mail. Mark had already moved his stuff aready, not like it didn’t take long, he didn’t have much in his apartment other then his bedroom furniture, stereo, console color TV and a Panasonic Video Tape Recorder/Player. “We can watch any movie we want, as long as it’s on VHS ,” he gushed happily. “Even blue movies. If you want to Honey.” Good save there Babe. The ratty ass couch he’d had since his freshman year in collage went to the curb. No way was that thing going anywhere near 8150 Springvalley Dr. 

So anyway, rented a U-Haul truck on Saturday and on Sunday we took turns driving it and Mark’s Firebird Trans-Am up Interstate-75. His is an older model, I kind of like the one from ‘Smokey and Bandit’. Or maybe it was because of Burt Reynolds. Anyway, left Tallahassee at 06:00 in the morning and didn’t pull into the driveway in Cincinnati until 11 that night. Was so tired but Mark still carried me over the threshold.

Brrrr, gotta get the furnace hotted up. My blood isn’t used to this kinda cold. The heat was on just enough to keep the pipes from freezing, but still, am still not used to this Northern cold. Thought Virginia was chilly, Mary and Cas thought that was the funniest thing they ever heard, but the wind sure does come a whipping off the plains here in Southern Ohio. We dragged in the mattresses and just laid them together on the floor in the living room, got Marks old sleeping bag out of the closet to use as a blanket and fell asleep almost immediately.

Now it’s Monday and Mark has to get in to work, which leaves me to unpack the truck. Thanks tons. Got dressed, put on a heavy coat and boots, and start to get the boxes with our wedding gifts out. There is a coffee pot in there SOMEWHERE! I know you’re in here because I packed you myself with a can of Maxwell House. Ahhhhhh, there you are. And there’s the can.......where’s the FUCKEN can opener?! Wait, didn’t somebody give us an electric can opener for a wedding gift? Oh yes they did. There’s the little sucker. (Oh crap, have to write thank you notes.)

Oh yes! Mr Coffee, I love you. Mr Can Opener, you’re a close second in my heart. It took most of the morning and two pots of coffee, but got the boxes, most of the furniture, except for the dresser and vanity, out of the U-Haul. Mark can help get that stuff once he gets home tonight. It was after one o’clock when I finally remember the envelope full of mail Mom had collected for me while we were in Bermuda. It was on the kitchen counter where I’d tossed it last night and now really should have a look at.

Dumped it out and started to sort through the envelopes. A come on from Columbia House for albums or tapes, the newsletter from our congressman, bills from American Express, C & P Telephone- come on, I paid you people and JC Penny. A postcard from Mary, oooooh, how she doing? She and Cleo the cat are waiting for their flight to Germany (the card has a picture of the Washington Monument on the front) just wanted to say hi and will be writing more soon. Wow, I miss those guys.

There's also A letter from the commander of the National Guard unit in Tallahassee, saying his farewells and that I will be a great asset to the Logistics Operation Center in Louisville, Kentucky. Kentucky?! Thought I was going to be in the Ohio National Guard? Well, I’ll be dipped in government sh.....manure. Here’s the letter from the Kentucky National Guard welcoming me to the head quarters company of the Logistics Operation Center. WOW! Not shab-bay.

Oh, and here’s a large envelope from......Fort Benning, Georgia? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY ALPHA FREAKEN GOD!!!!!!! I’M GOING TO JUMP SCHOOL THIS APRIL!!!!!

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Went a little wild with the notes, so they would only fit here and not where they usually go.

John (Johnny) Constantine Unitas May 7, 1933 – September 11, 2002), nicknamed "Johnny U" and "The Golden Arm", was an American football player in the National Football League (NFL). He spent the majority of his career playing for the Baltimore Colts. He was a record-setting quarterback, and the NFL's most valuable player in 1959, 1964, and 1967. -Wikipedia 

The language used here in the first POV is West Flemish. It’s spoken by the people in the western region of Belgium, southern Holland near the Atlantic shore and in the Ypres and Dunkirk region of France. 

Cheese eating: Army slang. A ‘cheese eater’ is a tattle tale. What eats cheese.....a rat. What does a rat do? It rats out other rats. 

Norwich Rook: a first year military student at Norwich University, Vermont.

Korporaal-Chef: an E-4 in the Belgian army. Would be equivalent to a corporal or specialist in the US Army

Old Boot: 70’s army slang for a solder with experience or know how

*Ghost Cav: mentioned in Cadet Novac Chapter 46 ‘Being Alert’ 

Ice Capades: a traveling ice show (think Disney on Ice without the mouse or princesses) that featured former Olympic and US national skating champions. It ran from 1940 to when it went out of business in 1995. 

un coup de vent : Cajun French for ‘gust of wind’

**From Chapter 67 of Cadet Novac, Interlude Four: Conversations, An Interview and Mrs Robinson

Grip: old name for the flu

Jenny’s parents home:  
https://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-69932437.html 

Marge: slang for margarine in the UK

Armored Cow: army slang for condensed milk 

Builder's tea, also known as a builder’s brew, is a British English colloquial term for a strong cup of tea. It takes its name from the inexpensive tea commonly drunk by labourers taking a break....Builder's tea is typically robust and has a rich, brown colour. The teabag is usually left to brew for between two and four minutes, which is well above the average English Breakfast teabag brew time-from Wikipedia 

Gritter: what a sand or salt truck is called in the UK 

Pimm's is a brand of gin-based fruit cup drink, but may also be considered a liqueur. It was first produced in 1823 by James Pimm.......Its most popular product is Pimm's No. 1 Cup -Wikipedia 

Ameche: 1940’s slang for telephone. From the movie about Alexander Graham Bell starring the actor Don Ameche. 

Harry Price and Peter Underwood were British paranormal investigators. Price in the 1920’s to the 40’s and Underwood from the 40’s until he passed on in 2014. Leonard Nimoy of course hosted the show ‘In Search Of....’ from 1977 to 1982. 

Li'l Abner is a musical with a book by Norman Panama and Melvin Frank, music by Gene De Paul, and lyrics by Johnny Mercer. Based on the comic strip Li'l Abner by Al Capp....The Broadway production opened on November 15, 1956 and ran for a moderately successful 693 performances.....Paramount released a film version with the same title in 1959, with most of the Broadway cast reprising their roles.  
-from Wikipedia The strip used the fictional town of Dogpatch as satire to get its point across on many social and political issues of the time. Think ‘Hillbilly Elegy’ only with ‘Sadie Hawkins Day’. The song Calvin is singing is Jubilation T Cornpone. 

Pneumocystis pneumonia (PCP) is a serious infection caused by the fungus Pneumocystis jirovecii. -from the Center for Disease Control website. At the time Chickie is looking into this, it was thought Pneumocystis jirofecii was a protozoan instead of a fungus. One of the first large studies of this organism came in the early 60’s when there was a fatal outbreak of the disease among a large number of children in southern Iran. Common thread in all the deaths was malnutrition.

MHC Class 2 T cells: Histocompatibility, or tissue compatibility, means having the same, or sufficiently similar set of genes called human leukocyte antigens (HLA) (they code the proteins), or major histocompatibility complex (MHC) in the body. Each individual cell expresses many unique HLA proteins on their surface which signal to the immune system whether a cell should be there or is an invading organism.] T cells recognize foreign HLA molecules and trigger an immune response to destroy the foreign cells-taken from Wikipedia So, what does all that good science mean? Simply put, it means if something messes with those proteins and receptors in the T Cells, like HIV, then you’re body doesn’t have any defenses and you’re screwed.

Tara’s house. Just what a junior executive salesman would buy in 1979 for his bride.  
https://www.remax.com/realestatehomesforsale/8150-springvalley-drive-cincinnati-oh-45236-gid600025610829.html 

Home prices in the late 70’s and 80’s were low because the interest rates were so high. They peaked at a high of 18.45 percent in October of 1981.

This is Mark’s TV and VCR, high tech for 1979  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZ8n15GuSy0  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-sA1M4EV_c  
At the time there were two formats for video recording and playing, Betamax and VHS. Beta cassettes were smaller but had better picture quality but the VHS player was cheaper then the Beta machine. Which was the reason for the popularity of VHS. Not that the VHS machines were that cheap either. The machine in the commercial retailed for 949.59 in the 1978 Montgomery Wards winter catalog.


	4. GI Blues or I don’t Have a Wooden Heart

Monday morning, the 22nd of January, came round and before Sam left for work, Dean and I packed up the Impala, then said our goodbyes. Had a long talk on Saturday and one of the things decided (along with the rules of ‘engagement’ in our dating relationship) was to leave on Monday. As the old saying goes about company being like dead fish; after two days it starts to smell and on the third day it really stinks. Which considering Jeff’s diapers, had more then a grain of truth to it. 

Saturday afternoon had gone shopping for essentials at the commissary and some of the local shops. As everything was closed on Sunday, needed to get enough supplies for basic house keeping, so could move into quarters without too many issues while waiting for my household goods to arrive. Picked up a small frying pan, paper plates, plastic forks and spoons, dish and hand soap, along with a shower curtain. Toilet paper, must have toilet paper. Got a couple of four packs of Charmin, last thing I wanna buy on the economy is shit paper. Am I inferring that German ingenuity did not extend to their bathroom products? Yes, yes I am. Hate picking splinters out of my ass.

But are there things that were a must from the local shops? OH HELL YEAH! Sausages, bread and a Sinalco orange soda. Didn’t even wait till we got home, before I dug into the bag after we’d left the bread shop and stood there on that cold wind swept side walk trying to stuff one of those tasty hard rolls into my mouth. Whole.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with enjoying your food, love the technique.” Dean commented with a smirk as I stuffed, chewed and groaned happily. “But you look like you’re auditioning to be the next Linda Lovelace.” 

And he really didn’t mind my technique later on that evening after we were trying to settle in for the night. Was trying to do the hard but right thing by sending him off to the couch to sleep. Had gotten Jeff down for the night in his crib, so obviously there’d be no hanky panky in the bedroom. Course there was nothing said about the living room. Sam had said good night, then something about helping Jess with her notes on omega to omega resuscitation from drop. They must have been some notes considering the goofy ass grin on his face.

Okay Novac. You demanded the rules for this relationship. Now live up to em. “Good night Dean,” I leaned in for a chaste kiss and hug. Mmmm, forgot how soft his lips were. Full and ripe, made for kissing. Not helping either that all he had on was a t-shirt and thin cotton pajama bottoms. Wow, he must not have spent all his time behind a desk, as his body was still nice and firm. Course, that’s when the memory of all those nights in Babys back seat in the RIT parking lot came to mind. Ooo, did we steam up the windows a bit didn’t we. Leaned in again for one more little peck. Oh he smelled good too. There is nothing like the heady smell of this man. His natural scent with a little Brute cologne at the edges to go with it. Oh man, am I a gone goose.

Could feel his hand slide to my belly, slip under the shirt and lightly run the tips of his fingers across the taunt skin. Ulysses moved sleepily, pressing a little foot up to be tickled. Oh man, didn’t know how touch starved I was until just now. The time with Jenny was wonderful, exciting, intoxicating......but with all that said, she’s not an alpha. And my body needs one whether I like it or not. Biology is SUCH a bitch.

“Remember how nice it was to be with you,” Dean nuzzled and nibbled his way from my lips, then neck. Nosed aside the shirt collar whinnowing his lips on my shoulder.

“Alpha,” I whimpered. Ohhhhhhh, this is getting out of hand fast. The short time with Hugh Ashton pointed out just how much in need my body was and the fog of that desire was rolling in fast.

“You’re all I ever wanted,” he whispered. “Everything, that you are and will be. Body, mind and soul. Want so much to be inside of you.” 

Ohhhhhhhhh crap, this is not a good start to the ‘you’re gonna date me’ plan. But, let’s see if we can get him a little side tracked. But first, have to get a little clarity first, I hate that. DNA is such a bitch. Well, could’ve been worse, could have been mating fugue. Okay now, that thought got things in focus. The memory of waking up in the BOQ tied to the bed cleared things up faster then the mental picture of Naomi-Mom banging hookers on the hood of a police car ever could. 

But nothing said we still couldn’t have a little fun first. Just had to be careful. Especially if I didn’t want my friend here to see the red marks from Jenny’s riding crop. “Sit,” I whispered into his ear and gently pushed him to a seat on the couch. “Let me take care of you.” Add a little scent across his nose and Dean fell willingly back onto the cushions. I may want you oh alpha mine but at this moment, you need me more.

Angled myself down to kneel between his legs, there was his hard length under the thin cotton. Leaned in kissing and mouthing the shaft, following the vein to the head. Dean reached down to free him self of the pajamas before I pushed his hands away. “No alpha,” I commanded. “Omegas choice.” 

“Casssssssssss,” he whined, still trying to tug the buttons open on the pajama bottoms.

“Deaaaannnnnn,” I whined back teasingly. If there was ever going to be a time and place to let him know how the game was going to be played, it was right now. Took the cotton covered head into my mouth, nipping and sucking. Could feel Dean’s fingers brush across my scalp looking for enough hair to fist but of course finding none. Now let’s have just a bit more fun and really rub it in.

Hefted myself up, dropped the panties and settled on his lap, “you can jack off to Busty Asian Beauties all you want.” Ben had narc’ed out his fathers secret stash of fist books. I leaned in going nose to nose. “But think about this Dean Winchester,” Kissed each word. “You’ve......got.......Cal.....State......right.....on.......your............” It was rather satisfying to have him cum in his pants. Then I sat on that twitching cock, grinding in and drenched em in slick. Now, I’m going to be soooooo mean. “Night Sugar, pleasant dreams.” I hopped off and sashayed away, slinging my big ole hips left and right. 

“Cassssss! That was the bitchiest move ever!” My alpha with the little ‘a’ pulled the sticky materiel away from his crotch. Now that really looked gross.

“Oh stop complaining, you loved it.”

“Do you treat Dad this way?” Hope he really wants an answer to that question.

“What do you think?” I turned, winked and did a bump and grind that would’ve done Nick Monroe proud. “And he just keeps coming back for more.”

The look on his face was priceless. Half horror, the other half intrigued. “Son of a.......bitch!” The last word was uttered like a prayer.

Course all that teasing left me with ‘Spurs’ on frappe half the night. Son of a biscuit.

The next morning checked the post directory to see where the nearest chapel was and the time for Catholic Mass. Hmmm, Protestant services were on at 09:00 am and the Catholics got the room a bit later at 10:30. Figure as a responsible parent (haaaaaaaaack, cough) need to get my little guy used to going to church and after last nights antics, yeah I kinda needed to get into the habit again. Over breakfast asked Dean if he wanted to go too, then “why is Sam laughing so hard?”

With a look of purest intention (hey, I know that look. It got me into Baby’s backseat enough times) he said ‘why I’d love to’, then whipped around to his brother. “It’s not funny Bitch.”

“It’s hilarious, Jerk! Come on, you know you’d light up faster then a bamboo hut on the wrong end of a Zippo if you stepped foot in church.” Sam turned to Jess, “you remember what happened at our wedding?.” Dear Nurse Jessica immediately stuffed a whole piece of toast in her mouth to keep from answering or laughing, couldn’t tell you which.

“Hey,” his brother protested. “Was it my fault the minister got a little too close to the candle I was holding?” Oh GOT to hear about this. Apparently poor Reverend So and So in exhorting the bride and groom almost had a ‘Buddhist Barbecue’ moment when he swung his arms up and the sleeve of his robe hit the candle. “I got him put out before he got too crispy.” 

“You dumped the water and orchids out of Jess’s mom’s antique crystal vase on him.”

“And you caught the vase before it hit the floor, so no harm no foul.”

Assbutts. Think I better get dressed while I still have a moment of will power left, because am half tempted just to sit back down and listen to Winchester family war stories. Had ironed the wrinkles out the my suit, tie and oxford shirt earlier that morning so it would be ready to go. Wow, that salesman at Thalhimers was right. The extra material seamlessly expanded the waist line so that it fit and held my belly. Damn if it wasn’t worth the money.

Got Jeff into the cleanest pants and sweater he had. Oh man, his britches were almost to high water again. Hope there’s thrift shop in K-town, the pup is just growing out of everything so fast. “Jeffy be a good boy for Papa and Dean?”

Course he nodded yes and then said ‘no’. Oh thank you King of Mixed Messages. 

Dean did end up going. Getting him dressed was as bad if not worse then Jeff. At least he came with a pair of khakis and borrowed a tie from Sam. Okay, the tie was a little long, stick it in your pants and let’s get moving! Come to think of it, never asked him what his faith was. Probably should take a peek of his dog tags some time to see what he has listed there.

The priest must have thought everyone either looked half asleep or half froze that morning. Because the first hymn, he himself banged out on the old upright piano next to the organ was the ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’.

Mine eyes have seen the glory   
of the coming of the Lord;   
he is trampling out the vintage   
where the grapes of wrath are stored;   
he hath loosed the fateful lightning   
of his terrible swift sword;   
his truth is marching on. 

Okay, awake now. Jeff of course loved it. He wiggled and sang, mostly ‘Irv and apes of ass are shored.’ Both Dean and I had tears in our eyes trying not to laugh. We are soooooo going to Hell. Hate to say it, Jeff was better behaved then Dean. That man ate up every last Lifesaver I in my pocket, drew pictures of naked ladies on the program and made change in the collection plate. To paraphrase a certain omega who art in Georgetown, ‘ya’ll a red assed barbarian’ Dean Winchester. 

The priest had some decent material that morning, using the weather and REFORGER as a metaphor, that the Alpha God puts obstacles in our way not because he wants us to fail but because he wants us strong and resilient “He does let you lay down beside the still water to rest but not before you have passed through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Or this year, the cold and the threat of the Russian Bear.”

Went up for Communion, it had been a while. Dean sat with Jeff on his lap as our son once more met his adoring public. Could hear, “oh he’s so cute, big, oh look at those dimples, a charmer just like his daddy’ all the way up the line and all the way back. The two of em were milking it for all it was worth. Dean had on that smile of his that guaranteed to melt hearts and make a woman or omegas underwear disappear in a heart beat, while Jeff simply used ‘the dimples of death’. What is it about Winchester men that makes them so irresistible? 

Had to disappoint the priest (and more then a few female members of the congregation) on our way out at the end of services. “We’re just visiting family in the area and are on our way to to K-Town.”

The rest of the day, I did some laundry, got a few pairs of fatigues ironed and starched, boots shined, all in preparation for tomorrows sign in. My quarters are going to be in Vogelweh Kaserne, the base outside of Kaiserslauten. Building number 1015, Florida Loop....on the third floor. Oh wonderful. Have already been warned by Lt Masters there is no elevator. Well, could’ve been worse, could’ve been the fourth floor. But at least I’m not on a waiting list for weeks or months or trying to find a place out on the economy. I am done living in the barrio.

Come afternoon, I’m tired. Dean and Sam were playing cards or should I say cheating at cards. Jess had taken Anne outside for a few minutes to get some air and let the pup run off some energy. I decided that Jeff needed a nap, even if he didn’t think so. “No!” He protested.

“Yes,” I countered. “Big boys need a nap.” Then the pup got a sly look on little face. “Gook?”

“Okay, Gook.” Read the waterfall chapter...AGAIN...but three pages in, Jeff was asleep. Some day, I’m going to record this part on a cassette tape and just let it play every night until he’s sick of it. Now I stretched out on the bed, could feel Ulysses moving about, getting himself comfortable, “please don’t tell me, you wanna be read to too.” Nope, thank the Alpha God, he just wanted a rub or two or three or four. “Okay kiddo, will rub the ‘magic lamp’ and you’ll go to sleep. Off you go, there you are....come on!” But after a while he settled down and now....my eyes went to half mast, could hear the radio playing out in the living room. Nothing like a little AFN, ‘the K-Town sound, 105.1 on your FM radio dial’.......

“Can't you see I love you, Please don't break my heart in two That's not hard to do 'Cause I don't have a wooden heart” 

Elvis, can’t ask for better then ‘GI Blues’. Oh man, I’m tired. 

“Muss I denn, muss I denn Zum städtele hinaus städtele hinaus Und du, mein Schatz, bleibst hier?” 

Okay angels, leave me alone, okay?

Course they didn’t.

“There's no strings upon this love of mine, It was always you from the start......” The person singing is no Elvis but still a nice enough voice, for being a step above a wedding singer. Where am I this time? See a banner, HAPPY NEW YEAR! WELCOME 1980! So, it’s a New Years Eve Party, kinda like the one I went to at the British Embassy two years ago. Only without costumes. The men in this crowd were in tuxedos or dress uniforms, ladies and omegas in gowns. Looked down at myself, wow. The gown is a Marc Vaughan, (finishing school, remember?)sheer black metallic material, hooded which covered my lack of hair but open at the shoulders and throat to show the mating scars and the czars collar.

Apparently it came into John’s hands when one of the Italian generals assigned there to NATO, their omega male mistress tossed a hissy fit along with most of his wardrobe out their bedroom window. In the ensuing scramble for the designer duds, it turned the once sedate Belgian street into something like Filenes basement on a one day sale. People were stripping right there on the sidewalk to try things on. A friend of John’s who was passing by got a couple of the outfits, thinking Mary might like them, who turned her nose up at the robes and gowns immediately. An alpha woman wearing an omegas clothes? Unthinkable! So I got em.

Speaking of, see Mary and John standing in a receiving line across the room shaking hands with the guests as they arrive. John is standing next to Alexander Haig, or I think that’s him, it looks like him. Or at least like the pictures of the guy anyway. Well, being I’m, not in that line looks like Mary got her way and I’m relegated to the side lines. Prolly saying I should be happy to even be there. No, no I’m not. Had better things to do then this, like drink myself into a stupor at home. Drain my glass of champagne and reached for another off the tray of a passing waiter.

So if it’s almost Tuesday, it must be Belgium. Peachy, the NATO New Years Eve Party.

“Hello lyubove moya,” Demitri Krushnics deep sexy voice slid into my ear; all I could picture was honey being poured over rusty knives. “Drinking alone? Where is your mate? Oh, he’s over there and you are here. Oh well, his loss, my gain.”

Really don’t need this right now. “Captain Krushnic, shouldn’t you be ….oh I don’t know, invading Afghanistan or something? Crushing the populous, gassing women and children, all to the tune of ‘Back in the USSR? ” He looks handsome in that tux. “Out of uniform? Isn’t that spying? Could get you strung up like Benito Mussolini at an Esso station for shit like that.” Also gave him the old ‘thumbs up’, Naomi-Mom said that gesture was rude as hell to a Russian.

The arrogant SOB flipped a laminated card out of his coat pocket, “diplomatic immunity.” He shrugged, “I’ll be joining my unit within a few days, but in the mean time, I’m the guest of the French ambassadors mistress tonight.”

“Which one?” 

“Does it matter?”

“Only to those of us without a score card.” What is it about French ambassadors that they can have a mate, several mistresses and probably a boy or girl friend on the side and still make it to work on time? It’s a miracle of time management.

Captain Krushnic leaned in as it to say something but instead brushed his lips against the side of my neck. “You wearing the czars collar. I should claim it as the historical property of the citizens of the USSR and the oppressed peoples shackled to the yoke of western imperial capitalism everywhere.”

Took a couple of steps back. “Wow Demitri, the fact you can say that with such a straight face is amazing. Considering how much bull shit you just spouted, I really should be standing on a chair to keep it from squishing between my toes.” Then smiled showing my teeth, “oh. You lay a hand on this collar and I’ll break your fucking fingers then toss you off the nearest balcony. All in the name of Uncle Sam, the good ole USA and oppressed pimples everywhere.” 

The smell of arousal was now coming off the man in waves. “I do like an omega with spirit, they are so imaginative in the chase and when caught, frantic in the denial of their desires. It also makes it all the more delightful when they break. And they always break.”

Now I’m just getting a little sick of this party. “Demitri, why don’t you just go find that ambassadors mistress who brought you, get a room and fuck it out of your system. Cuz in 30 minutes, I’m gonna be on the next train back to Germany. I’m ‘Duty Officer’ tomorrow tonight...” No I’m not, but he doesn’t know that. Tossed back the drink, then set the glass down on a near by table. Am so done with ALL of this shit! “Just as soon as I can get my shoes and coat on, am outta here.” 

“I think not lyubove moya,” the Russian bore laid a hand heavily on my shoulder, right over the mating scar. “The night is too young for you to leave without....” the fist that sucker punched him in the kidneys and must have hurt like a mother fucker. The Russian fell back into a chair, gasping for breath.

“A dance Lieutenant Novac? They’re playing our song.” 

Since when was ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ OUR song? “General Winchester, are ‘we’ doing duty dances already?” Checked my watch, “I don’t think I have the time, the train for Baumholder leaves in about 20 minutes and I gotta be on it....”

 

Now that one word brought me up out of sound sleep in a cold sweat. BAUMHOLDER?! If ever there was a place that put the word ‘HOLE’ where it justly applied, it was Baumholder. It was tucked away in the southwest part of Germany, a town with more GI’s then people........okay. That came out wrong. More G.I.’s then TOWNSPEOPLE, that’s what I was trying to say; ever since before World War Two when the German army used it as a garrison, then the French had it a few years post war, who then turned it over to the Americans. So you’re looking at a population of around 4,000 civilians and 18,000 US troops. Oh what could go wrong?

Oh now here’s a choice, go die up at the Fulda Gap or get stationed in Baumholder. Why does this make the Gap start to look better and better? Now I can’t sleep, roll out of bed and go to see what everyone else is up to.

So Monday morning comes round to find Dean, Jeff and I on the E4 Bundesautobahn out of Frankfurt to K-town. It’s overcast as it always seems to be in Germany most days. 90 percent chance of snow, or so says the weather guy on AFN. Along with temperatures below zero. Wonderful. Jeff sat on the front seat between the two of us, playing with a toy car he snitched from Annie. Lord only knows where she got it from.

“Do you live in Vogelweh too?” Watch the bright lights of the new bridge and the dark cold water of the Main River as we cross, leaving the city of Frankfurt behind us in the rear view mirror. 

“Yup, on the second floor of building 1017.”

“So, we’re neighbors.” Oh he’s lucky I’m not my brother Gabe. He would’ve deviled the heck out of Dean just for the fun of it. “Might come by some time for a cup of sugar.” If he was chewing gum, Dean would’ve swallowed it. Oh yeah, Lisa would love to see me at the door. Oh maybe will do it once, just to see the look on her face. Yes, Mrs Jessica Winchester, you’re right. I am an evil son of bitch when I wanna be. 

“Which reminds me, we need to stop in and see Rufus Turner.” Well, that was an awkward way of changing the subject but if it could get his thoughts away from me living two doors down Florida Loop, so be it. “He and his mates family run a pastry and bread shop in town on Bierstraße 49. He’s a grouchy old cuss but his mate’s a sweetheart. I’ve known them most of my life. He was driver for the Red Ball Express during the war now he drives the delivery truck.”

Interesting and good to know. Can get my bread and pup sitter all in the same place. From the sounds of it, Rufus Turner homesteaded here in Germany after taking a round about path that took him into Greece to fight communist insurgents, the Korean War to fight more communists and then Algeria to deliver equipment to the French in their fight against the Front de National Liberatione or FLN (I don’t think they were communists). Then off to ‘Nam where there was a shit load of communists that needed killing. Apparently he’d met the lady would become his mate just after the war, when he was stationed in Heidelburg.

“Rufus took every shit assignment any where in the world so he wouldn’t go back State side,” Dean said quietly.

“Why was that?” Though I had a sneaking suspicion I knew already. As most of the drivers, with few exceptions, for the Red Ball Express were......

“Black and his mate is White. In the mid 40’s, 50’s and into the late 60’s when he retired, could you imagine him and his family being stationed say.....at Fort Hood, Texas, Fort Bragg, North Carolina” (the ‘support your local KKK sign outside of post immediately came to mind) “oh hell. Even Fort Devens in Massachusetts wouldn’t have been all that great either. So Germany, Greece, Japan, Korea and dozen or so other places where he was free from a lot of that horse shit, not all, cuz there’s always assholes, but less then what he’d encounter in the States at that time.”

Had seen that in Germany and in Panama, black guys mating local girls, then going back State side only to bounce back as fast as they could get a reassignment. “Did they have any pups?”

Dean laughed, “a flock of em. Mrs Helva Turner I swear could get pregnant if Rufus tossed his pants over the end of the bed.” There were ten pups in all, 4 girls and six boys. Half work at the bakery, the other half are either in the Bundeswehr or the US Army. Those pups are some tough sons of bitches.”

“Can imagine if they joined the services.”

“Are you kidding? All of em are ‘Hell Hounds’ when you piss em off . You don’t mess with the oldest girl, the neighborhood lives in fear of her sharp tongue and harder fists. She is one mean little Josetta. When you’re half Black and full on Jewish, you better be tough.” 

“They’re Jewish? But how?”

“I do believe Rufus’s family came over from Ethiopia in the early part of the century as part of a cultural program to promote the existence of that branch of the Jewish faith. He grew up in Harlem, joined the army and the rest as they say is history. Which reminds me, we’re here.” Wow, that was quick. The Impala prowled down the narrow street like a panther through a herd of deer. The other cars moved out of the way or were treated to Baby’s throaty growl. We came to a stop and parked in front of a red brick building that had a sign hanging from the side proclaiming ‘Harlem Bäckerei und Konditorei’.

“Harlem Bakery and Cake Shop,” I read. “Hope they do Donauwelle.” 

“If they don’t today, suspect they will tomorrow,” Dean turned off the engine and picked up Jeff, settling the pup on his hip. “Come on Sport, let’s go meet your new sitter.”

“Mmmmm Ha? Immy? Rosey?” Jeff looked hopeful.

“What did he just say?”

“His sitter at Fort Lee, “ I sighed and leaned in to nuzzle my son’s soft chubby cheek. “Mrs Harras, Jimmie and Rosey. No Baby, new Mmmmm Ha.” The wind suddenly sent an icy blast through the narrow streets, bringing with it the stingers of cold hard snow. Even with Johns great coat and long johns under the fatigues, felt the cold sink into my bones. Had to get my sons inside fast. Plucked Jeff from Deans hip and slipped him into that big wooly coat, there, now both he and Ulysses will be warmer.

Went up the short flight of stairs into the shop to be enveloped in warmth and smell of yeast, sugar and chocolate. There were a few people at the counter waiting their turn to order. No line cutting here, Germans are VERY particular about that.

“Wie geht es dir. Womit kann ich Ihnen behilflich sein? (How are you? How can I help you?) The young black lady behind the counter was probably in her mid 20s and her German was perfect right down to the Bavarian accent found in this neck of the woods.

“Wie gates okay, but the fence fell down.” Dean said with a grin. Ewwww, that’s an old chestnut.

“Dean Winchester,” the girl’s sudden turn to English was unaccented and to the point. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Boy, does she know you.” I snickered, letting Jeff down, as the pup was getting a little heavy.

“Hiya Betty Boop,” he went around the counter and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Your Mom and Dad around?” 

“Mom’s in back grinding up almonds for zimsterne and Dad’s out making deliveries. He should be back soon.” Then she looked over at me. “who’s the guy mit einen Braten in der Röhre haben?”

“I’m the guy with the ‘roast in the oven’ who’s mated to Dean’s old man.” I grinned toothily. “And I can sprechenze real good too.” 

“You two are living proof that boobs really do travel in pairs,” the girl gave a rather epic eye roll but also grinned and held out her hand. She had a grip like a pair of pliers. “Hi, Betty Turner-Washington here. Army brat extraordinaire, classic over achieving middle child and the nicest of my sisters. The big lug I’m mated to is a sergeant with the 92nd MP Company, he’s a dog handler. Swear sometimes Phil loves that mutt more then me.

Dean said something colorfully inappropriate, to which Betty returned in kind with something even more colorful and down right physically impossible. In the mean time, Jeff had toddled over to the glass case and was looking in at all the sweets like he’d fallen into dream. A dream covered in frosting and topped with walnuts, cherries and sprinkles. “Irv Papa!? Irv?!” When he doesn’t know the word, ‘Irv’ is still the catch all. 

“ZU SPARGELTARZAN DÜNNBRETTBOHRER HAUFEN KOTZEN!”

Holy Mother fucking shit?! What was that? Automaticly snatched up Jeff and slid a hand into the coat pocket for the Lovers Kiss.

“Tina and Franz are home.” Betty said dryly.

“Remember what I said about the oldest sister,” Dean reached around the case and helped himself to a cookie. “That’s her now.”

Into the shop burst an alpha woman that should’ve had the word ‘Kelvinator’ stamped across her forehead, as she was big and broad as a refrigerator. So much for the term ‘little Josetta’, but ‘mean’ did seem to apply. Following in her wake trailed a tall string bean of a fellow whose demeanor just screamed ‘Caspar Milquetoast’. Which was probably the loudest thing about him. They marched through the shop, she not stopping either in her step or berating the mate who just trotted behind like an obedient if not whipped dog. The customers parted to let her through to the kitchens swinging door like Moses at the Red Sea.

“I did say I was the nice one,” Betty took a cookie out of the case and handed it to Jeff.

“What do you say to Frau Betty?”

“Irv.”

Close enough. Oh my feet are starting to hurt and back ached. Leaned up against the door jam and shifted from foot to foot. About then, there was a clatter of something metal hitting metal coming from in back of the kitchen. “Dad’s home. He just dropped the bread trays in the sink for Franz to wash. I’ll tell him you’re here.....” But she didn’t need to as the man himself came through the swinging door.

“Saw that beast of an Impala out in front and figured you were probably skulking around here flirting and stealing cookies.” Rufus Turner’s voice boomed out across the shop. With a voice like that, you knew, once a sergeant, always a sergeant. Even when your prolly 10 year out as a civilian. “Where’s this pup you’re looking for us to wrangle?” Jeff immediately stuffed the cookie in his mouth prolly thinking this big loud man was going to take it away. He looked up at me with big worried eyes, “Mmmmm Haa?” Then started to cry.

That’s when Mrs Helva Turner came out to see what her mate had done to get a pup to wail like a politzi siren on the way to a bar fight. She was a little on the stout side but leaning toward zaftig, her dark hair shot with silver but her eyes still a merry cornflower blue. Helva spotted Jeff who for once in his little natural life instead of welcoming attention from strangers, was hiding behind Dean’s legs “Oh liebling, why all the boohoo?” 

“Eannnnnn! Papppppaaa! Irvvvvvvv!” 

“Cookie?” The siren stopped immediately.

“MmmmmHaaaa?”

“If you want to call me that, or Oma.”

“Oma?” Jeff tasted the word along with the cookie. Then seemed to like it. “Oma,” he said with finality. Then looked shyly over at Rufus.

“Opa,” Mr Turner now said quietly and held out another cookie. Jeff toddled over, took the treat and looked at it thoughtfully. When no one made a move to take it from him, the pup stuffed the thing in his mouth.

“Opa,” Jeff said with a yap full. He also didn’t kick when Rufus picked him up.

“Oy gavalt!” He groaned. “This pup weighs a ton.”

“95th percentile,” I said proudly. That’s when Rufus turned an interested eye on me. 

“Huh, looks like Johnny boy didn’t let any grass grow under his feet.”

“Sez the man with 10 pups in 14 years.” Dean pulled a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue out from under his coat and gave it a tempting shake. “Come on, let’s you and me have a pow wow.” Then he turned and tossed the keys to the Impala to me. “Why don’t you go sign for your quarters and report in with the Adjutants office at Battalion HQ. They won’t have you do much today other then meet your sponsor and then your boss.” Sounds like a good idea. But why do I have the funny feeling it’s not gonna work out that way? “Plus It’ll give my little dude,” Dean chucked Jeff under the chin to make him wiggle and crow happily. “A chance to get used to being here.”

“Well, I don’t know...” Check my watch, it’s only a little after 10 in morning. Oh why the hell not? “Okay, should be back in a few hours.” Walked over and kissed Jeff on the cheek, “be a good boy for Dean, Oma, Opa and Frau Betty. Okay?”

He nodded, said yes, no and Irv. Close enough.

Dean walked me out, “don’t worry Sweet Thing. You’ll be amazing.” Tipped my head up for a quick kiss. His lips lay tenderly on mine, the tip of his tongue running across the seam of my mouth. Just a quick taste of him, a quick dart of the tongue.....mmmmm, sugar and tobacco and coffee. Now let his tongue slid in. A moment or two later when we had to come up for air, “you could wait until tomorrow to sign in.”

“Well, um....No.” Let’s get this over with. Shook myself. Alpha God, I hate being the adult. “Let me do what I have to.....and then come back and we’ll have a place to suck a little face.....or other things if you’re good.”

“Little Maid, you know how good I am.” Yeah, that’s how we got a pup and I’m mated to your father and.....it’s time to go now.

Pulled away and straightened my fatigues, Got some quick directions to the housing office on Florida Loop, from there they should supply me with a map of post that would take me to QM HQ. One more little kiss and I’m off like a herd of turtles. 

The Housing Office was in the Vogelweh Kaserne just outside of Kasierslautern. Stopped at the guard shack to show my id and orders. The MP’s gave them and me the once over heavily, as I was in a car they knew by sight and the owner of said car wasn’t in it. Course they didn’t listen to me when I tried to explain. Was just told to pull into the little waiting lot to the left of the building, turn off the engine and wait while ‘inquires’ could be made. Told em to call to the Harlem Bakery as Warrant Officer Winchester was there and could explain why I had his car. As 15 minutes crawled to 20 and no MP in sight, the car got cold, I got hormonal and really....really pissed. Probably shouldn’t be doing this, but....could feel Ulysses shivering. Took out my dependent ID card and was just about ready to get out of the car. 

Thank the Alpha God, that’s when the MP came back, apologized for the time it took to get the information varified. “Spoke with Mr Winchester, said that you did have his permission to use to car. Here’s your ID and orders back.” Started the engine and got the heater roaring. Also took down the name of that MP. He and rest of those ass clowns are in a world of deep kimchee.

The post housing office was on the first floor of Bldg 1001 of Florida Loop. Geeze, for once the army has some nice stuff. The housing that lined the street were four storied white painted brick buildings probably put together within the last 10 or 15 years. The Italians who came up to work rebuilding Germany after the war did a great job with the brick work. Usually what the army got were the quarters and barracks built before the Second World War. 

After signing my life away and leaving three copies of my orders, was issued a welcome package, two sets of keys and was told not to make duplicates. OR ELSE! Having been told things like that all my life, will be looking for a lock smith toot sweet. Now lets go climb ‘Mt Everest’ to Apartment 3C in Bldg 1015. Found the building, slung the duffel bags over my shoulders and took to the stairs. Was on the second floor landing when I stopped to catch my breath. Oh man, this sucks. “Hey, you okay?” Turned and there was a beta woman and her two young pups standing in the doorway to the stairwell. 

The pups all had runny noses and the woman didn’t look too hot herself. But it was nice of her to stop. “Uh, just taking a breather,” I wheezed. “Just wanted to get into quarters before signing in over at QM HQ in K-Town.” Puffed and blew, “stairs are a fuuuu....freaken killer diller.”

“Is your mate assigned here too?” She held out her hand and then pulled it back, “sorry bout that. We’ve got the bug that’s been making the rounds. Last thing you need is to catch it right off the get go. Hi, I’m Tasha Banes, these two scamps are Max and Alica. My mate works over at the base hospital, he’s an x-ray tech.”

“Castiel Novac, hi. No, he’s up in Belgium at NATO HQ. Prolly some glorified coffee boy” (sorry John) “to a no account major who’s in charge of some department nobody’s ever heard of.” Took a deep breath, at least the dark spots I was seeing have gone for the moment. “Hoping either in a year or so, one of us can get reassigned to be closer. At least we can see each other on weekends.”

“What floor did the housing office put you on?”

“Third, apartment 3C.”

She held out her hands, “let me help you with those duffels. At least you got right in. We had to wait a month before quarters became available. You’re lucky.” Tasha hefted the bag with ease. “Come on, let’s do it to it like Sonny Pruitt.” 

“Thanks Tasha. That’s me, Mr Lucky.” 

Apartment 3C, walked in to a long hall, bathroom on the immediate left, few steps down the hall on the left was the living room...not big but not small either. Should be enough room for what furniture I had, when it arrived. After that on the right were two bedrooms, so that Jeff could have his own room and big boy bed. Kitchen was on the left off the living room. It was a nice size, with washer and dryer hookups. The walls were blazing white and had to stay that way. For the moment, the only furniture in the place was a card table, two folding chairs, a bed, night stand and dresser. Good old quartermaster furniture. 

“Wow,” Tasha was in awe. “At least you have that. We slept on air mattresses and used Fox’s (my mates) foot locker as a table for weeks. Damn with that kind of luck, you should buy a ticket to the Irish Sweepstakes.”

“Yeah, lucky ole me.” We had dropped the duffels in the hallway near the front door. “Thanks so much for all the help. Think I can handle it from here. Just have a couple of grocery bags down in the car, they’re aren’t too heavy.”

“No problem,” Tasha said. “We were just on our way over to the base clinic. As you can see, the pups aren’t feeling too well, so I kept em home from school. Probably the clinic is just lousy with sick pups and retirees, so think I’ll just going to the PX to pick up some NyQuil instead and call it a day.” We traded scraps of paper with apartment numbers and promises for dinner once we both got a spare minute. Tasha then rounded up Max and Alica and was off to the PX. Now I stood alone in that echo-y apartment.

“You wanted this,” I said out loud. “Studied, worked every dirty job, scraped and sacrificed for this one moment. Yay team.” Went back down stairs for the bags of stuff from the PX and brought them up. It’s now a little before noon. My stomach growled, wasn’t hungry earlier at the bake shop as I’d had eaten up all the bread and sausages from Saturday for breakfast this morning. But now, the gut needs something. A post map had been included with the welcome package, so according to this, the Officers Club was just a few streets south and west. Could go grab a sandwich or a burger, then report in. 

The Kaiserslauen Officers club was a glass and brick building at the end of Second Ave. Will have to go see about joining this fine little institution of higher drinking at some point, but not today. Went to the tap room, found a seat at the end of the bar and took a look at the menu. Pretty standard fare, ordered a burger, fries and ginger ale when the bar maid came round.

Was doodling on the place mat waiting for my food to come when over heard someone say, “have you seen Winchester? Saw that big black tank of his out in the parking lot but can’t find him.”

“Haven’t seen him. Maybe Lisa is here? Think the mates club has some meeting going on in one of the ball rooms upstairs.”  


“Na, can’t be. The ‘hen parties’ are usually on Tuesdays. My mate is always going on about em.” Very carefully turn my head toward the voices, casually giving my head a scratch. There was a W-4 senior warrant officer sitting a few stools down talking to some captain who wore the insignia of the Transportation Corps. “Figured if he was here,” the guy said’. “Have to give him the 10 bucks I owe him.”

“Let me guess,” the Warrant smiled like a satisfied crocodile. “He suckered you into either a poker game or shooting pool.”

“Pool,” the Captain sighed. “ Was up two games and five bucks, then he bet double or nothing. Skinned me like a mule.” Remembered his stories of hustling pool out at Scofield Barracks in Hawaii. Oh Dean, you are a bad little ‘heole’. Guess I snickered a little too loud because the Captain bristled, “you find something funny about that whole situation Lieutenant?”

Put on my sweetest smile, “with all due respects sir. It’s fucken hilarious. Cuz if it’s the same Winchester that drives a big black Impala and mated to a Lisa ….shot pool with him when he was a sergeant back when he was my ROTC instructor in college a couple of years ago. He was an okay player. Won a few bucks off him.” Took a sip of the ginger ale. “Maybe he’s improved in the mean time.”

“Think you’re hot shit and can do better?” The Captain snipped.

“Maybe, sir.” It’s been a while since I’ve played.......

“I think ‘maybe’ you two might wanna rethink this,” the Warrant started to say. Then shut up when his eyes fell on the name tape sewed to my fatigue blouse. A knowing look came over his face, then a smirk. “Pool table is right over there, if you wanna settle it right here and now.” The game took just long enough for my lunch to arrive. The captain left the room five dollars lighter and the Warrant thought it was the funniest thing he ever saw. “If your mom is Naomi Novac,” (I nodded) “saw her take hundred bucks off Eisenhower in a poker game once and beat the crap out of ‘Luis the Beast’ in Havana. Heard she had an omega pup who was a hellion. Granted, that would describe most of the pups in your family........by the way, your dad Zachariah is the biggest asshole it was my misfortune to ever run across.”

“You’re telling me nothing I don’t know already and you shoulda run cross him front, back and sidewarys.” Took a bite out of the burger. Mmmmm, not bad and tasted even better then the crow I might have eaten had not that Captain gotten little too cocky with his shots. Pregnancy doesn’t mean stupidity, helplessness or the not being able to do figure the angles to make those two last solids go in the side pockets like they had eyes.

Lunch came to three bucks and change. Left the fiver next to the plate and went out to car. Okay, it’s 13:15 and time to find QM HQ. Get signed in, meet the sponsor and the boss, do a little glad handing and then back to pick up Jeff. Maybe even suck a little face with Dean right after I narc out those MP’s that had me cooling my heels at the gate. Sat in the O’Club parking lot studying the map and figured out where I’m suppose to go across town to Ave A on the General Support Depot. Okay, no problem. 

20 minutes later was parking the car in the visitors lot to the side of QM HQ. It was kind of a newish two story gray stucco building with the words HQ US Army Depot Kaiserslautern on the front. Okay, cool. Easy peasy. Walk in remove my cap, but leave the great coat on. Don’t wanna announce my condition right off the get go. Take a moment to read the ‘this way to’ board. Alright, adjutants office is down the hall to the left. The civilian beta woman who was the ‘guardian of the gate’ looked me up and down when I walked in, before she gave a great sneeze. Like Tasha Banes, she looked like hell from what ever bug was going around.

“Adjutant is out with the flu,” she wheezed. “Leave your orders here with me and report to....” she grabbed a folder out of her in box and glanced at the paper work..... “Captain Darwin Austin over at 85th Quartermaster Company. You’re his new Third Platoon Leader.”

“WHAT!? I’m sure there’s a mistake here. My orders say I’m suppose to be assigned to Headquarters.”

The secretary glowered over her glasses at me. “Ever hear of ‘the needs of the army’ sonny boy? The captain put in a request for a new platoon leader this morning. The last one got frostbite two days ago and looks like he going to be laid up a while. Mozel tov, you’re it. Beat feet kiddo. He needed someone there like yesterday.”

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Okay, calm down Novac, you can do this. Thanked the secretary for her ‘kindness’, consulted the map and stumped off to find the 85th. It turned out to be the typical three story barracks left over from the Germany army, ala pick a World War. Parked next to the other cars out in the company street, took a deep breath and got out. “You can do this. You’re a Novac, a Crowley and a Winchester.” Course that’s when a gust of cold snowy wind came through to bust my bubble. Gathered the coat about myself, ignoring the twisting and turning from my ‘uterine hitchhiker’ leaned into the wind and walked through the drifting snow toward the entrance. Stopped momentarily to read the sign beside the front door. “85th Clothing and General Supplies Company,” I read. “Rip, Tip, Tally Ho?” Another one of those unit sayings that must have made sense a zillion years ago but sounds just weird now.

Came into the company clerks office to find him sitting behind a desk with a wastebasket overflowing with snotty tissues, a vaporizer going with a full head of steam and the smell of eucalyptus so strong it could clear the sinuses of a dead man. But being that Spec 4 Heinz Chickadee (OH MAN DID GRAND DAD GET AROUND) was alive it didn’t help much. He looked up, with sickly disinterest. “You the new guy.....Sir?” Good catch there soldier.

“You could say that Specialist.” Was half tempted to go all ‘stupid butter bar’ on him but decided to wait. There were far worse things I could do, once I have the lay of the land. Besides, he’s related to Calvin, so he gets a pass. Just. This. Once. “Is Captain Austin in?”

“Yes Sir,” he picked up the phone. “Captain. Lieutenant Objibwa’s replacement is here.” Then the Specialist turned back to me. “Go right in, ‘Granny Pants’ will see you now.” Then he grabbed another tissue and collapsed into it, blowing wetly.

How do you get ‘Granny Pants’ out of a name like Darwin Austin? And of course the name made perfect sense once you opened the Captains door. Darwin K Austin, US Army Quartermaster Corps, was a slight, alpha dude with a receding hairline and a fussy manner as evidenced by his desk. Granted it was one of those standard gray metal jobbers one finds in most offices connected with the US Army. Except that it was placed on a rather nice Persian carpet, with a plastic runner that covered the majority of it so it wouldn’t get dirty. The two guest chairs rested on pads of heavy felt to keep the feet of the chair from making dents in the rug.

Came to stop with my toes at the edge of the carpet and saluted. “Second Lieutenant Castiel Novac reporting for duty Sir.” The desk was also neat, very neat, like in ‘how did this guy get any work done’ neat. 

Also on the desk was a was a single blue clay flower pot with a foot tall palm tree, and a heat lamp to keep it warm. I remember Captain Sonny out at Fort Riley had a thing for plants but this bordered on the absurd. “It’s a “bonsai,” guess he saw me looking. “She’s a fully mature Sago Palm, I’ve had her for over 10 years. Took a lot to get her passed German customs but she’s worth it.” Then he sneezed and grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk. Today is the day, I’d love to have stock in Kimberly-Clark. Would make a mint. “Sorry, seem to have whatever is going around. Oh at ease.” He finally noticed I was standing there saluting him for the past few minutes. The captain returned the salute, then motioned me to have a seat and I handed over a few copies of my orders. 

“Glad to have you here. Do you know anything about volksmarches?” I nodded. If you lived in Germany long enough you would’ve traipsed around the countryside on one of those suckers. “Good,” he tossed a folder across the desk. “You’re now on the planning committee for the one coming up in June.” Peachy. That responsibility off his shoulders, ‘Granny Pants’ got down to business. “Do you know what we do here at the 85th?”

I shook my head no. 

“We are a subsistence supply company. Meaning we deliver clothes, general supplies, food and dry goods of all types to units across Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. We’re responsible for maintaining the refrigerated warehouse here on post as well other clothing, maintance- and non perishable food item storage facilities. Right now we’re a little short handed because of the bug that’s going around, people pulled to drive truck for REFORGER and pregnancies.” Uh oh. “Half my female troops are pregnant and are on light duty or putting in to get out.” He growled, “damn women. Come into the army, get knocked up and then skip out when you need em most. Heard omegas are worse.” That’s when I realized his nose must have been stopped up, because if it hadn’t been, doubt the good captain would’ve made that crack about omegas.

“How awful for you,” I said dryly pulling the great coat more tightly around myself.

“Anyway, glad you’re here.” He checked his watch. “Have you been to the housing office yet?” I nodded. “Are you mated?” I nodded again (had left my mating collar in the strong box this morning). “Well tell the wife not to wait dinner for you. In about an hour, you’ll be taking five tractor trailers to Hof. The mech boys from the First Infantry Division are over there eating everyone out of house and home. Their supplies haven’t arrived yet, they’re still stuck in Antwerp. Apparently there’s some ice storm or other and they can’t get the ship unloaded.”

WHAT!??? My jaw dropped. “You....you...want....me....to...”

“Go to Hof. It’s this little butt fuck town out near the Czechoslovakian border. Is there a problem?”

“Uh, no Sir. Just need to make a phone call.”

“Of course, gotta let the ‘little woman’ know you’re not gonna be there for ‘Fathers Night’. Yuck, yuck, yuck.” Took everything I had to keep the eye roll down to a dull roar. This is going to be interesting when Captain ‘Granny Pants’ finds out there is no ‘little woman’ (little general, yes) I’m an omega and pregnant ta boot. But then again, that’s a discussion for another day. 

“Uh, where is the Third Platoon office?”

“Go out of this office, take a left, go up one flight of stairs, take another left and it's down the hall to your right,” he tossed me the keys to that office. “Sargeant Brown, your platoon sergeant is over at battalion motor pool down at the end of this street. They should almost be done loading by now. Will call the office down there and let them know to expect you. By the way, those trucks need to be out to Hof by 20:00.” He checked his watch, “it’s about...oh...14:40. Be on the road by 15:00. It’s about four hours to get there.”

And a few minutes later down at the Third Platoon Office: “YOU’RE GOING WHERE?! NOW!? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?!” Dean was livid.

Held the phone away from my ear before taking a deep breath and pulling it back. “I’m thinking that I’m a platoon leader now and you need to help me out here to take care of our son or call your father to come down from Antwerp and pick Jeff up if you can’t handle it.” That was hitting below the belt, but I don’t have time for niceties. “I’ll only be gone tonight and will be back in the morning. For Christ’s sake Dean step up and grow a pair!”

“Me step up? You’re first responsibility is to care for our pup! That should come before anything.”

“Oh, because I’m ‘the omega’, and your career is more important then mine?”

“Did I say that?!”

“You might as well have.” We argued a bit more, but did come to the agreement, he would take Jeff tonight, then drop him off with the Turners in the morning. “And by the way, you owe them $75 a week to watch Jeff, in cash every Monday. By the way, I’ve paid up for the week, you owe me 75 bucks.”

“Take it out of what you owe me for back pup support,” I snapped back at him. Okay Novac, calm down, this ain’t gonna get you anywhere or any thing but heart burn. And I got enough of that already. Should buy stock in Norcliff, with the amount of Tums I’ve been chowing down on lately. Ulysses is probably gonna come out hairy as a grizzly bear with the amount of heart burn I’ve been having lately. “Dean, I didn’t ask for this job. I was suppose to have been assigned to HQ, but that whole ‘needs of the army come first’ thing came up and here I am. Didn’t wanna sink my career the first day by saying no. What would you have done in my place?”

There was a long sigh coming back over the line. “Same thing I suppose.”

I took another deep breath, “Dean, all I want to do is the best for our son. Liston, gotta go. See you tomorrow night. Oh, I’m leaving Baby in the parking lot in at the 85th QM Company. You’ve got your extra set of keys to come and pick her up?”

“Yeah, will ask Rufus to give me a lift home, pick up the extra set and then head over.” Then his tone changed, “be careful out on the roads this afternoon. Weather reports say we’re suppose to get some more snow and turn colder.”

“I’ll be careful.” Then added, “this is a milk run, what could happen?” 

 

Three Hours Later: 

“Sure,” I thought with more then just a smidgen of irony and smudge of terror. “It’s a milk run”. Spec 4 Myndisue-my driver and I were standing outside the truck with our hands up as four rather large gentleman holding Russian made AK-47s had them pointed in our direction. This is what happens when you take the classic ‘wrong turn at Albuquerque’ and end up at a guard station five miles inside Czechoslovakia. “Sure, what could happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys, thanks so much for coming back to 1979
> 
> Sinalco Orange soda: the company was founded in 1902 by Friedrich Eduard Bilz under the company name of Bilz. The first product was lemonade and proved to be so successful, copycats soon sprung up. To save the brand, the company changed the product name in 1905: Inspired by the Latin “sine alcohole” – in English: “without alcohol”, the name Sinalco is created. Other flavors soon followed, including orange.
> 
> Buddhist Barbecue: Buddhist priests protested the South Vietnamese governments treatment of their religion and later the war itself by self-immolation (setting themselves on fire). American G.I.’s of course had that name for it. 
> 
> Battle Hymn of the Republic was written by Julia Ward Howe in 1861 and set to the tune of ‘John Browns Body’.
> 
> Wooden Heart: a song created by Fred Wise, Ben Weisman, Kay Twomey and German bandleader Bert Kaempfert, in 1960 based on a German folk song by Friedrich Silcher ‘Muss I Denn’. Was featured in the 1961 movie ‘GI Blues’ starring Elvis Presley. You can watch a part of the movie where he is singing ‘Wooden Heart’ on You Tube.
> 
> Muss I denn, muss I denn Zum städtele hinaus städtele hinaus Und du, mein Schatz, bleibst hier?: Must I then, must I go out to the city beyond And you, darling, stay here?
> 
> https://www.ebay.com/itm/Small-Marc-Vaughan-1970s-Sheer-Metallic-Gold-and-Black-Dress-VTG-70s-Designer-/352624391784 This is the basis for Cas's omega gown.
> 
> If it’s almost Tuesday, it must be Belgium, my riff on the 1969 movie, ‘If It’s Tuesday, It Must be Belgium’. 
> 
> Lyubov moya: Russian for ‘my love’ 
> 
> Kung Fu Fighting: a song released in 1974, written and preformed by Carl Douglas. A one hit wonder, it came about because of the kung fu/chopysocky craze of the early 70’s.
> 
> Duty Dance: a relic of the past, usually at military New Years Eve parties, where the base commander would have a turn around the dance floor with the wives of his junior officers.
> 
> Donauwelle: a traditional sheet cake popular in Germany and Austria. It's a pound cake with sour cherries, butter cream, cocoa and chocolate and like a Marble cake bright and dark cake batter are mixed into each other to create swirl effects 
> 
> Zimtsterne-Cinnamon Stars: a favorite at Christmas, Yom Kippur or any time. https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/german-cinnamon-stars-zimtsterne-103995 
> 
> “ZU SPARGELTARZAN DÜNNBRETTBOHRER HAUFEN KOTZEN!”  
> You Aspargus Tarzan, thin board drill Lump of Puke. What Franz is being called is a tall, thin dumb lazy lump of puke.
> 
> Caspar Milquetoast was a comic strip character created by H. T. Webster in 1924 for his cartoon series The Timid Soul. Webster described Caspar Milquetoast as "the man who speaks softly and gets hit with a big stick".....The term milquetoast came into general usage in American English to mean "weak and ineffectual" or "plain and unadventurous". When the term is used to describe a person, it typically indicates someone of an unusually meek, bland, soft or submissive nature, who is easily overlooked, written off, and who may also appear overly sensitive, timid, indecisive or cowardly. -Wikipedia 
> 
> Thumbs up: fine in the US (with the exception of some gas stations, convenience stores and Dearborne, Michigan) but don’t do it in the Middle East or Russia. It means ‘up yours’.
> 
> Irish Sweepstakes: an international lottery to benefit Irish hospitals. It ran from 1930 to the last draw in 1987.
> 
> Volksmarch - a walking event with multiple check points where you have your participation book stamped at each point. Prizes are awarded for the fastest, youngest or groups participting.. Also termed volkswalk. In Germany, these events were originally termed Volkswanderung - "volkswandering." Reportedly this was difficult for American military stationed in Germany to understand and so they started using the term Volksmarsch.


	5. Hladit Hada Bosou Nohou  (To Pat a Snake with Bare Feet)

Warning: time appropriate bad language, it you are Hispanic, Oriental or attending or did attend Texas A and M, I apologize now.

 

Had I not been on the wrong end of an AK 47, I would’ve been totally thrilled to see one so up close and personal. It was exactly as cool as it was in pictures. Had I not been such a lousy shot with a potato dumpling, I never would’ve gotten to see got see 12 Gurkhas down their drinks in one gulp, pull their knives and hollar ‘Ayo Gurkhali!’ But luckily I had enough sense to run like hell right after. (My mommas didn’t raise no fool....hey, it’s nice to laugh that hard at a pregnant omega) Had I enough sense, I would’ve tried harder to get Benny Lafitte out of my heart.

To preface this little venture into the land of ‘shoulda, woulda, coulda’, let’s go back a few hours. After leaving the 85th, went home quick, picked up a go bag with a change of clothes, shoe shine kit and toilet paper, drove back, parked Baby in the company street. Then started the walk down the windswept byway to the Battalion motor-pool. Being they shared space with the Transportation Battalion and an Artillery battery, there was a lot more security then had it been just our QM trucks sitting there. 

The guard shack was made of stone, the gates looked like heavy gage steel and I was betting there was actual ammo in the side arms on the soldier hips that were manning the gate. Luckily for me, I was not only allowed in the shack as one of the two MP’s there looked at my id but the other let me hunker down by the pot bellied stove to get warm.

“With all due respects Sir,” the one holding my ID’s said gently with all the manners of the southern gentleman his accent and his momma trained him to be. “Should you be out in this kinda weather? I know you gotta do what you gotta, being an officer and all. But it’s mighty cold out there for someone who’s in the family way.” 

“Thanks for you concern Private....(checked the name tape) Lee.” Wasn’t gonna jump down the pup’s throat for this observation or his kindness. “But I’ll be alright. Just needed a moment to get warmed up.”

“The 85th is loading up down at the end of the motor pool. Let me drive you down there.” The staff car was parked just inside the fence. He turned to the other guy, “watch the store till I get back.” Went out to get the car started and warmed up. Looked around the guard shack, noticing they seemed to have a little extra fire power hanging around; shot guns, M-16’s even a 60 cal hung on the wall in the corner of the room.

“Expecting an invasion?”

Private Ito shrugged, “ever since there was an attack on the Giessen Army Depot about a year and a half ago by the Baader–Meinhof Gang, security got a little tighter and a lot better armed. Even this far on post. If the motherfu.....mothers....get in.....we’re equipped to take em down.”

“Good,” I’m hard dick when it came to the subject of the Red Army Faction. Knew the sons of bitches played for keeps. They killed a friend of Naomi-Mom and Zachariah’s back in 72 and caused a lot of death and misery in the years since that time. “Some folks just need to be dead: fast, hard and bloody.” 

“Amen to that Sir,” the private agreeed.

Private Lee came in a few minutes later, “car’s warmed up as much as she’s ever gonna be.” He motioned toward the door. After you Lt Novac.”

“Thank you Private Lee, Private Ito for all your kindness.” Will get their first names and give these kind young men’s careers a little shot in the arm. A word in the ear of a CID warrant or a general can go a long way. Walk outside, it’s still colder than a Russian well diggers ass in Siberia. Buck up Novac, as the song sez: ‘you got a long way to go and short time to get there’.

Pulled up to the staging area to find five International Harvester five ton trucks, idling in a haze of diesel smoke. Try not to look like I’m wallowing out of the front passengers side seat, last thing I need is to have the platoon think their new lieutenant is some kind of fat spaz....right off the get go anyway. Return Private Lee’s salute turned to take a few steps and stop to survey my first command. Five trucks, one NCO and what looked like about a dozen privates/Spec 4’s. Okay, take a deep breath, don’t walk like a pussy and strode over with purpose in my step. Only to slip and almost fall on my ass on an ice patch. 

“And now for my next merry magic trick,” I called out. “You will see a real live second lieutenant walk and chew gum at the same time.”

Sargeant First Class Brown, who was black....no....more of a dark caramel if truth be told....walked up with the straight backed measured step of an NCO who’d been in this alphas army since Christ was a Corporal (and knew where all the slippery spots were). He stopped and gave a lazy salute. “Lt Novac I presume?”

“Since Dr Livingston isn’t here, yeah, that’s me.” Now let’s get a little semblance of order around here. “What’s the status Sargeant Brown?”

“Loaded up and ready to go, just waiting on you.” Oh thanks, no pressure. 

“Do we have a route picked out and maps?” Yes, I know. A second lieutenant with a map and compass is the most dangerous thing in the world. Hey, I don’t have the compass, so I’m not that bad.

“Yes Sir,” the NCO pulled a Michelnin Guide book out from under his coat and flipped it open to the map pages.”

“Sargeant, this is a tourist map.” 

He sighed, “our last....or was it three guys before him?....Platoon leader misplaced them and the Captain put in a request for more a few months ago but....we haven’t got em yet. Besides, Michelin does as good a job with their maps as the Corps of Engineers and this is from last year.” His face split into a smile as he pulled out another book, “plus the Fodor’s not only have maps but puts in the good places to eat.” 

Well, drive on. The Corps of Engineers don’t do that. Okay, on to the next question. “What are you using for communications between vehicles?” See, I’m not a total idiot.

“CB radios, it was just faster to buy em at the PX than try and follow channels to get ‘green radios’ repaired after we had a few little......‘mishaps’.” Do I really wanna know what they were? Uh, in a word, no.

So, we reviewed the route, than walked the line of vehicles for a final inspection and okay.....lets go. Clambered up into the lead truck and met the driver. “Uh, hi. I’m Lt Novac.”

“Specialist Myndisue,” she looked to be in her early 20’s, had a mop of curly dark hair that was trying to escape from under the baseball cap and round wire framed glasses perched on her nose. “We ready to boogie on down the straße Sir?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” And now form my first command as a platoon leader: “take us on out.” The air brakes gave a hiss and the truck pulled forward. The roar of the big engine made it a little hard to talk, but not impossible. Found out the Specialist was from Jasper, Alabama, oldest of three pups and wanted outta that town, at least for a little while.

“Wanted to see a little bit of the world before settling down,” Myndisue said. She glanced over to see if I minded before lighting up a smoke. Nope, don’t mind at all. Would kill for one of those Marlboros. “Finish my hitch, go home, maybe work over at the Baptist Hospital or use my GI Bill benefits to go to school. Don’t know yet, got another year before the freedom bird gets me outta here.”

The cab of the truck hadn’t warm up much and with the smell of diesel and tobacco, it pretty much masked my omega and pregnancy scent the same way the diesel fumes masked it out in the motor pool. Sargeant Brown didn’t do so much as twitch as we stood together going over the map. Speaking of, took the road map off the dash board. Opened it and found.....“this fucker is from 1959!”

“Yup,” Myndisue aimed the truck onto the E5 Autobaun. “Considering how bad the roads still are out near the border, that map is as good as anything done last year.” She steered with her knees just long enough to field strip the butt and stick it in her pocket. Had always heard Zachariah bitching about that whenever he got home from the field, but also heard him say it was for a good reason. A good road might help move our troops up fast in the event of an invasion, but it can also bring the Soviets in faster if they decide to come over the border. So the roads stay shitty and badly marked. 

Everything went well until we stopped in Bayreuth around 18:00 hours, it was the biggest city in that neck of the woods and what looked to be an hour away from Hof. Sargeant Brown had radioed in that it might be a good idea Sir (meaning: DO IT BUTTERBAR!) if we stopped at this small guest house/beerhall he knew of at the edge of town for dinner and see a man about a dog. Yeah, if my back teeth were floating, than everyone else must be as bad. “This joint will at least serve G.I’s as long as we’re quiet, eat fast and get out,” Myndisue explained pulling off to the side of road. She put a chain and lock on the steering wheel, “in this cold, we need to keep the trucks idling. Can’t have the engines seize up, considering we’re not staying that long.”

The lot of us trooped inside and while some went in search of the crapper (myself included), the rest found places at long table that went down the center of the dining room. Found the mens room, did my business, paid the attendant a couple of phenning and went back to the dining room. There were smaller tables scattered around the room with patrons either having their dinners or just a drink. The place had a cheery glow from the fire burning on the hearth, the light wood paneling on the walls and candles on the tables. A Fallow deers head decorated the wall, along with paintings of hunting scenes and landscapes. There was also an old photo of probably the owners father or grandfather in their World War One uniform glowering out the populace. What a sour puss.

Being this was Bayreuth, course there was a bust of composer Richard Wagner in back of the bar. The talk in the room stilled for a moment when we walked in but started back up when the locals figured we weren’t there to get drunk and fight, just eat and leave money.

Had seen places like this before, mostly the more down at heels joints were the commie college students held their wussy verbal ‘beerhall putsches’. Cheap beer and sausages were there for the taking as long as you were willing to listen to their shit. Being Gabe and I were always hungry, we sang the songs of the rise of the proletariat, stuffed our yaps and Gabe got laid....a lot.

Picked my seat at the long table, made light conversation with the men and waited for someone to come to take our order. An older beta lady with the air of authority and an order pad, walked up to our table. “In einer Nacht wie dieser, entschuldigen sie mir bitte die Stoerung (on a night like this, please excuse me for disturbing you”) I began. 

“You have nice manners Herr Leutnant,” the lady said in pretty good English with a jaded eye that looked us up and down as if to judge how big a bunch of ‘Cheap Charlies’ we were going to be. Her nose twitched, “not like you should be out on a night like this, not in your condition.” Oops, looks like she doesn’t have the cold or flu that’s going around.

“Gute Frau, (Good Lady)” I said quickly. “Was können Sie empfehlen? (What do you recommend?)” Oh man, lady, you really need to keep your nose to your self.

She rattled off the specials and we quickly ordered. Some got the Pichelsteiner stew (it was one of those things where if it was on hand-it went into the pot) others chose the wurst plates while Sargeant Brown got the blood sausage. Never a favorite of mine under the best of circumstances but now, just the smell of the stuff makes me run for the dandelions (would have to move the snow piles to get to em) to blow chow. Thank the Alpha God, Brown was sitting at the other end of the table. Knew enough to not say anything about the men ordering a beer. But did give everyone ‘the look’ and raised just one finger. Course the one wise guy....squint to see his name tape, PFC Yancey, held up three fingers. Shook my head and held up one. Next he tried the old ‘peace symbol’. My middle finger went up. Finally he put up one finger and than curled it.

Okay, I nodded. A beer and a half. Considering most of the people at this table had prolly been here long enough to build up a tolerance for drinking the stuff, a beer and half shouldn’t impair em in the least. Geeze, can remember the first time after getting to the States, I drank a six pack of American beer and didn’t even get a buzz. Cast a longing eye at those steins of golden goodness as a hot mulled cider was set in front of me, not that I ordered it mind you. Had just asked for seltzer, instead Frau Beta set the mug down in front of me with no word other than...”drink”.

I shrugged off the questioning looks and slowly drank the cider. It was good, just the thing for the day I’d been having. Speaking of, Ulysses, who’d been quiet most of today, decided to start acting up. He kicked and landed a good one right against my ribs. Took everything I had not to double over. “Something wrong Sir? Myndisue was sitting on the other side of the table across from me, looked over the rim of her beer glass.

“Nothing,” I squeaked....get the voice back down...“Nothing. Just a cramp from sitting too long.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

That’s when the pup of course has to punt through the goal posts. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Private Davis was sitting next to me must have felt that one.

“Fine,” oh now I gotta get to the mens room. Ulysses is using my bladder as a trampoline. I dash off to the mens room again. Course only pissed a couple or drops, but still sat there a moment or two, head in hands trying to get control of myself, when heard the mens room door open and Pvt Yancey saying......“do you smell it? I’ve had pregnant omega in my nose since we got here.”

Oh fuck!

“Yeah,” the other guy-didn’t know his name yet-said. “Now that you mention it. Does explain why I’ve been smelling peaches. Just thought the kitchen had made kuchen or something.” They talk about this and that, what they’re going to do on their next leave...“what do you think of the new lieutenant?”

“Other than he’s a lard ass?” Yancey, you’re gonna be busted down so low, you’ll have to look up to salute ants! “Don’t know. Will have to see how long he can last working under ‘Granny Pants’. Think the last guy froze himself just to get outta Third Platoon.” Oh this sounds promising but not in a good way. “Didn’t even bother remembering his name, we’ve been through so many.” Oh, these guys are going to remember my name!

And they would remember Lieutenant Novac but not for the reasons, I’d planned on. Waited for those guys to leave, came out to wash my hands and tossed some more change on the plate of the bemused attendant. Strode manfully back to the table and made the mistake of stopping to talk with Sargeant Brown. The smell of the blood sausage shot up my nose like a guided missile. Slapped a hand over my mouth and ran for the front door. 

There wasn’t much to throw up. The cider and a few stale saltines that I’d found in the glove box decorated the snow bank beside one of the trucks. After a couple of dry heaves more, think I can go back inside. Nope, one more. Yuck, I feel lousy. It’s hot. Alpha God, feel like I’m burning up. Took off the great coat and just stood there beside the highway in the snow. The street lamps on this stretch of road had come on, the one over my head came flickered to life, okay should I be singing ‘Lili Marlene’? 

“Hallo kleiner Engel (hello little angel) Bist du vom Himmel verloren? (Are you lost from Heaven?)  
the voice came from a figure standing just outside the pool of light from the near by street lamp.

“Nee, mein Herr,(no Sir)” if this person be live or spirit, it’s better to error on the side of caution and be polite. Until it’s time to either shoot or say ‘Christo’ to banish or slow him down.

“It’s too cold a night for little angels to be out in the snow,” his sudden turn to English was near perfect.

“Vergelt’s Gott, (may God reward you)” Again figure to error on the side of polite local speak, as this was the fancy way of saying ‘thank you’.

“You’d be best to leave now, as God will have nothing to do with my reward should you stay any longer.” The figure stepped closer toward the light and could now see his outline. Tall, male with a smell of alpha, old wool and the sweetness of edelweiss. “A pregnant omega is such a rare lovely thing.”

“Christo,” I whispered. My hand clutched at the dime around my belly. I might be mad at Benny but the dime never left its spot around my waist to protect Ulysses. “Christo!”

A long deep chuckle came from the man as he moved near. Could see the uniform of an army from 60 years ago. An army that fought for the glory of the Kaiser and Fatherland. “Your silver and intent will keep me from coming closer. But little angel, a word of warning, keep to the west of the  
Höllbach . But if you cross the river, do not wander east into Bohemia.”

“CHRISTO!” Took to my heels and dashed toward the entrance of the guesthouse, not looking back to see if the spook had followed. Got back inside, oh crap, to come in from the cold to the heat from the fireplace, bodies and kitchen, the world was starting to get grainy black at the edges. Stumbled over to the table where my men were still sitting having that half beer and a smoke. Their empty plates pushed to the side. How long was I out there?

“Hey Leautenant,” Sargeant Brown was looking a little concerned. “Thought you’d walked to Hof, you were gone so......are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“Fine,” I said, as the darkness closed in. “Just fine. Just talking to the dead guy out in the road.” 

The smell of ammonia and lavender was what brought me up out of the darkness. Could even taste it, oh that’s gross. Tried waving it off, “John, get that away from me.”

Felt a large strong hand grab my wrist, “if this ‘John’ is your alpha, somebody needs a word with him about the wisdom of sending his pregnant omega mate on a joy ride in a five ton truck across Germany.” Oops, busted.

Opened my eyes to find Third Platoon in a circle looking down at me. “Uh, hi.” Okay, time to get this cluster fuck back on track. “Sargeant, since you’re doing a little hand holding, mind helping me get back up?” He pulled me to my feet, oops a little too fast, gravity works. NO! Can’t do this. “Help me back up, only little slower this time please.” Sat down on a bench at the trestle table, took the smelling salts and copped a hit. Oh yeah, I’m awake now. Chanced a look at my watch. Oh hell, it’s 18:50.

Now took the bit between my teeth. “Sargeant Brown, get everyone up, out and back on the road.” We gotta get to Hof in about another hour.” Took a deep breath and stood only to have a firm hand on my shoulder push me back down on the bench. “You’re going no where for at least for 30 minutes,” look up, and it’s our hostess. She thumped another mug down in front of me, only this time it was a beef broth.

“She’s right Sir,” Sargeant Brown said gently. “You need to take a minute.” But the mission can’t take a minute when those supplies have to get through. I made the decision that we split up, he and the others would go on to Hof and I’d catch up. What Myndisue thought of the whole situation, she didn’t say, just sat back down and ordered up another small beer.

After the others left, we sat quietly, Myndisue nursing the beer and having a smoke, me drinking the broth. My dinner, which I didn’t have the stomach for anyway, had been gobbled up by the table when I was gone. Ah hell, couldn’t blame em for that, except that I owed my part of the kitty. Oh man, where a day takes you. This morning I woke up in Frankfurt, had lunch in K-town and tonight (if we ever get there) will bed down in Hof. “Sooooo, pregnant....how far along?” The Specialist remarked diplomatically. “Should you really be out here?

“Yup,” did a quick finger count. “Six months and yup if I could go to jump school at the beginning of pregnancy, what’s a little truck ride across ‘The Fatherland’ in the middle of it.”

“Hard core.” 

“Not really, just hard headed.”

“Guess the cold and the diesel fumes kept the scent of....’everything’, down to a dull roar.” She took a sip of her beer. “Which does explain why I kept catching a wisp of peaches while we were in the truck. Thought maybe you had some peach gummies, in your pocket. Didn’t figure on a bun in the oven.” 

Oooooooooooo, gummies. Now there’s an idea. There was a Edeka Nah und Gut on the other side of the street and if the good Specialist would walk me over there, so I wouldn’t have to deal with that dead kraut again, could pick up a couple of bags. Drank down the broth, checked my watch. It’s only been 15 minutes. Close enough. Stood up carefully, okay. No faint feeling, no grainy black at the edges. Dug in my pockets and took out 6 D-mark coins and dropped them on the table. Had hit the American Express office in Frankfurt on Saturday to cash in some of the travelers checks for local currency. “If you’re ready” (implying that I was) Let’s go.” 

Herr Dead Dude was still out there, “I’ll wait for you......” Well, goodie gumdrops. Hope you like waiting arsch hinterm (assbutt). Gave him ‘the arm’ and kept on walking. Cause I ain’t coming back this way or hope not anyway. Got over to the Nah und Gut to find some gummies, Afrika cookies and lemonade. Myndisue got some Apfelschorle and Tuc crackers. Paid for stuff and headed across the road, glanced over and the spirit was gone. Fine, he took the hint.

Climbed up into the truck and checked the time. It’s about 19:30. We’re gonna be late but at least we’ll get there. The five ton lurched forward and headed on down the road. Was looking at the map checked for the turn off at Münchberg to head up Route 2. Found the turn off and drove and drove, looking for the sign for Hof. This is just werid, where is it? Knew the roads weren’t all that great out here and things always seem to take a little longer in the dark and snow. Yeah, it started flurrying and oh this is just great. Stopped the truck on a bridge over a stream and consulted the map. 

Also tried the radio. But nothing but static on every channel.

“Okay, if this is right,” Myndisue said, we should be just outside of Rehau. We can turn north from there.” Looked at the map and agreed. We drove a bit further and saw lights in the distance. Oh, thank goodness. We’re at Rehau.

Uh, or not. Once we got closer, hey this is too small for town, just a cluster of buildings and what looked like military vehicles. Or I think they were. That’s when the truck headlights lit up the guard shack and a large sign that proclaimed:

POZOR!  
Československá Socialistická Republika  
Höllbachův kontrolní bod

HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT! We’re in Czechoslovakia! “Myndisue,”was trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Back us out slowly, maybe they’ll think we’re one of them and just lost.” But the tapping on the windows with the business end of a weapon in the hands on some rather large guys kind of stopped that plan. The doors flung open and the guards motioned for us to come down out of the cab. We were herded over to the guard shack and the joint lit up like a Christmas tree. And there the two of us stood, hands up and four guys with AK-47’s covering us.

As part of me was panicking, the more lizardy part of my brain was admiring the simplicity of the  
AK. It is a cool looking weapon. Would’ve loved to have asked them if I could hold it but that prolly would’ve got me shot. Watched as a small group of people came stomping out our way across the compound, The man in the lead as a stocky little man who looked like a mobile brick wall. As he got closer could see that he was probably not much older me but wore a goatee and a frown to add years and authority. At his heel was a German Shepard that PROBOBLY WANTED TO EAT US! Calm down Novac, keep it together. You got two people here counting on you.

The officer stopped a few feet in front of us, just studying the situation for a few silent hours...okay it was probobly just a few moments, before motioning to put our hands down. “You know you crossed the Höllbach about 8 kilometers ago.” His English was heavily accented, but he could speak it where the only thing I knew in Czech were a couple of swear words. “Did not you see the sign?”

Höllbach? Where did I hear that before? Oh Christ on a Crutch! It was from the dead guy I flipped off in front of the guest house. Am betting ‘Bohemia’ is the old name for this area. Why didn’t I listen to him? Because he wanted to do nasty things to you, that’s why. Crap. “No Sir, there was no sign, until we got here.”

“So you took, what you Americans say: ‘the wrong turn at Albakoikie?” His attempt at a Bronx accent would’ve been funnier had those AK’s weren’t pointed at us.

“You might say that.”

“Now what do I do with you?” The officer set back on his heel and the dog looked hopeful that he would be chewing our legs soon. About that time, a little guy with a clip board came up. What is it about clerks, no matter where or what army it is, they all look the same? Something about em just screams ‘company jerk!’ He said something to the officer who took a glance at the clip board, was about to sign, when he put reached into his pocket, put on his glasses and than growled. Pointed to the corner of the form, swore (I knew that word) and tossed the clip board back to the clerk. Must be the wrong form.

In the mean time, Myndisue held up a shaky finger, reached into her coat pocket slowly as not to alarm our well armed ‘friends’ too much. She brought out a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. “Need a smoke when I’m nervous.” The coffin nail slid out of the pack into her fingers, bringing it to her lips, she snapped the Zippo to life. Flame kissed Virginias best and the smoke wafted across the crisp air. The little officer stopped and breathed in the aroma.

“Ahhhhhh, it is ambrosia!” He sighed looking wistfully at burning cigarette. Myndisue held out the pack, but her hand was shaking so hard that she almost dropped the smokes in the snow. Even out here in middle of nowhere, chivalry is not dead. The officer took her shivering hand in his, then lifted the smokes from her trembling fingers, bowed, before kissing the back of her hand. He took a single cigarette from the pack before placed it back in her palm. “We are not Rusove,” the word came out of his mouth like it carried with it a foul taste. “We do not take what does not belong to us. Nor make lovely ladies like yourself weep and shiver with fear. So with that in mind, I suppose we must let you two lost travelers return to your journey.” 

He lit the cigarette with grand flourish, holding it the European fashion between his thumb and forefinger. Took a deep inhale of that Marli and breathed it out in great clouds. And this children is what happens when you smoke Russian cigarettes, a Marlboro is probably like taking in fresh air. His men craning their necks just to get a whiff of that smoke, and enjoyment second hand.

“Besides,” our ‘Bad Czech’ said with a confessional impish grin. “the paper work is so tiresome and besides the forms for this situation are all out of date. But to keep you here is to lose you.” He took her hand again for another kiss. “But to let you go, is to hold the promise of seeing you again some day. Or as the great poet wrote: ” 

 

O ní šla věsť: kdo spatří ji —  
ten s kletbou prý to odnese,  
budže se v kámen promění,  
budže mu srdce vyrve se. 

 

And it is said, who her might see-  
will with a curse depart  
either to be become petrified  
or-torn out-lose his heart.

 

Goddamn a bear! Bureaucratic inefficiency and poetry all in one night. The Specialist smiled coyly, “you can keep the pack.” Course that gave in to another round of hand kissing and poetry. The dog looked disappointed that his master got to nibble on someones fingers and not him. ‘Raw rucks’. Sorry ‘bout that Rin Tin Tin.

“Do you have more then one pack?,” I stage whispered. They both were startled. Yes, folks, I’m still here.

“Why, do you ask?” She smiled toothily, with the tincture in her voice that said ‘not now lieutenant’. 

“Because, wouldn’t it be a nice parting gift to our good friend here and his men, as we have to get to Hof, and they need to return to their important duties.” Like guarding the middle of nowhere. “I’m sure, a little package of smokes, cookies and gummies (bye bye snacks) and a few rolls of toilet paper...”

“Charman?” One of the guards spoke up hopefully. Damn! There goes my stash. Was hoping we could get away with a few rolls of issue shit paper. Well, if I’m asking Myndisue to give up her smokes, I can do no less. “Charman,” I confirmed. Huh, they must pick up the signal from AFN TV out this way. Carefully, I walk toward the truck, climb up into the cab, collect the goodies and come back down.

“I’ll give you 10 bucks,” I said quietly between my teeth as I collected the two packs of ‘cowboy killers’. “That should be enough to buy two cartons.”

“But what about tonight?” She hissed back. 

“A few....as you Americans say....’for the road’, the Bad Czech poured at least half the pack into her hand.

“Thank you suh,” Myndisue poured on the southern accent thick. “You’re an officer, a gentleman and a scholar.” I handed the bag over and you would’ve thought it was Christmas. The guns went down and the smiles came out.

“Gummy bears!” Two happy solders exclaimed then grinned at each other and sang: “ Haribo mach Kinder froh, und Erwachsem ebsenso!” Guess ‘Radio Free Europe’ must be sponsored in part by the Haribo Company.

“Thank you my Darling,” the officer smooched Myndisue’s hand once more. “But it’s time for you to leave us.”

“But how do we get the truck turned around?” I looked around, there was no way we could do that on this narrow snow covered road.

The Bad Czech, barked an order and one his men ran over to the truck and climbed in. He put the truck in gear, pulled it through the gate at the guard shack, turned it around in their staging area and than drove back neat as you please. He hopped out as if it were nothing to drive an American made International Harvester five ton truck. 

“Goodbye, thank you! Good night!” We called out climbing in the cab and with a roar of the big engine, pulled away into the darkness. Tonight there were going to be some folks smoking Marlboro cigarettes, eating Gummy bears, cookies and wiping their asses with Charman. If that ain’t shitten in high cotton I don’t know what else is.

Speaking of, Myndisue was shakily trying to get one of her few smokes lit. I reached over took it from her lips, put it between mine and spun the wheel on the Zippo. Got the thing lit and sucked on it like mommas tit before handing it back. (Shut up, one drag ain’t gonna kill anybody, not after the day I’ve been having). “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said between puffs. “Wow, that was like the craziest, scariest carnival ride I’d ever been on” But, with a hint of girlish giggle, “that officer was kinda nice and cute and his mustache tickled.” 

But before I was going to ask her if she wanted to go back, the radio squawked to life, making the two of us about jump out of our skins. “Break, break!” Could hear Sargeant Browns voice fill the cab. “85th QM, Lt. Novac, Spec Myndisue, do you copy? Need your location ASAP. Over.”

Scrambled for the mic. “85th QM Sargeant Brown, this is Lt Novac, we copy. Over.”

There was relief and a touch of anger in his voice. “Roger that. Where the Sam Hell are you...Sir? We’ve been trying to raise you for the last hour and it’s been nothing but static. Over.”

“We took a wrong turn and ended up out near the Czechoslovakian border.” Small white lie, but will explain later....much later. “There must be radio jamming going on, we tried to raise you too but got nothing but static.” Now comes the part where either I live up or down to this NCO’s expectations..... “I take full responsibility for being late. Over.”

“Ahhh, fuck it.” The Sargeant growled. “Just get here, Sir. Out.”

A few miles down the road the trucks head lights lit up the sign for Rehau and the road that would take us north to Hof. “Uh, Lt Novac?”

“Yes Specialist Myndisue?” Alpha God, I’m tired.

“Can I have that 10 bucks please?” Well, I did promise. Took out my wallet and put the 10 spot in her outstretched hand.

It’s about 20:40 when we roll into the Third Armored Battalion staging area. See the other trucks from the 85th lined up, shut down for the night and the electrical leads to engines glow plugs coming out of the engines. This is so come morning they’ll start up and not seize. Oh man, this where I get my ass chewed. We climb out and are met by the Battalion Sargeant Major and his supply sergeant. “So you’re Lt Novac,” from the expression on his face, I was the bug that smashing itself on his windshield of life. “So happy you could finally join us...Sir.”

What would Naomi-Mom do to save a little face? Think Novac! I maybe a lower than whale shit second lieutenant, but in the grand scheme of things, technically, I still do outrank him. “Thank you Sargeant Major,” I began briskly. “Would like to see that the truck is unloaded and Specialist Myndisue has a billet for the night.”

“Our people have been sent to billets already,” he said in that tone NCO’s love to use on stupid little butterbars. “The supplies still have to unloaded and stored in yonder warehouse tonight to go out at 04:30 tomorrow.”

Okay smart ass, you want to punish the lieutenant, let’s do it. “If you can show me where a fork truck is and how to drive it, I will get this truck unloaded.” Turned to Myndisue, “go get some sleep. You drove all day.”

She stiffened her back, “with all due respects Sir. I’d like to stick around a little while longer. Besides, I’ve driven fork lifts before.”

And so, the two of us unloaded the truck. The Sargeant Major watched and the supply sergeant directed where the pallets would go in the warehouse. Took us an hour, where it would’ve only taken a full crew a third of that time. I’m a sweaty mess, Ulysses is kicking up a storm letting me know he’s hungry as a bear. When the last pallet was driven away, I climb down off the back end of the truck. “Done.”

“Not bad,” the Sargeant Major said begrudgingly. “Not great”, but that’s when he got a whiff of my stinky old self........“HOLY PRUSSION RAT FUCK! YOU’RE AN OMEGA! AND PREGNANT! I just thought you were fat........Sir.”

Well, thanks tons for that observation. “Yeah, I am. I am an omega, six months pregnant and NOT fat. Got anything else you want me to do Sargeant Major? Like find a feed bag for a mule or get a TR-double EE?” 

“With all due respects Lt Novac,” he hissed. “I want you out of my sight.” Top Kick turned to walk away.

“Sergeant Major,” my voice was calm but with all the authority of 200 years of Uncle Sam’s army behind it. “You ‘forgot’ to salute. You may not like or even respect me as a man and omega, but as long as you’re in this man’s army, you damn well better respect the rank.” He turned back slowly and brought his hand up to salute. I waited a heart beat before returning it. “Thank you. Now, see that the Spec 4 has a billet and something to eat. Have a good evening.” Not giving him a second look, stalked off to pick up my go bag from the cab, then headed toward the main gate. I can be a ‘little Prussian’ when I wanna be.

Had noticed a guest house (no spook standing in front, thank goodness) about a block away when we were coming in. Will have something to eat and get a room there to spend the night. Third Squad was suppose to meet up to head back about 08:00 o’clock the next morning.

The Frankenscher Hof was kind of a down at heels looking little place from the outside. The sorta joint you’d find at the edge of a military post. At this point didn’t care, just as long as the food was almost good and it wasn’t some kinda ‘no tell motel’, (oh come on Novac, you used to live next door a whore house) one night wouldn’t kill me. Why do I keep saying things like that? But as it turned out, the lobby and bar/dining room were clean and neat, the staff efficient (they’re Germans, what else would they be?) and the prices fairly reasonable.

Got a room, it was pretty small but surprisingly nice. A single bed, night table and chair. A petite round table to set your coffee on if you wanted to take breakfast in your room. A tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower. It was clean, quiet and overlooked a court yard. Got cleaned up, went downstairs to the dining room for a quick bite and off to bed.

On the way, met the owner, “Servus Herr Gastwirt (Hello Mr Innkeeper). Is the dining room still open for business?

“Good evening Herr Novac, it is but with all you Amri’s and other soldiers in town, we’ve little left until morning.”

“ Stein ist schwer Öl pressen. (you can’t milk a bull)” I sighed. “Is there any little thing ‘the locusts of Egypt’ have missed?

Herr Innkeeper’s lips turned up in a Mona Lisa grin at the comparison. “There is a bit of cheese soup and bread or kartoffelklösse mit gravy.”

“Ooo, the potato dumplings with gravy would be perfect.” Hadn’t had that in ages and now it would just hit the spot. 

“I suspect your little passenger would find it pleasing also.” his nose twitched, “you’re having a boy and an alpha.” Herr Innkeeper laid a finger along side his snout, “never wrong.” Well, Lewiston will be glad to hear that. “Come, have a seat and will get you something to drink.” He lead the way to a corner of the dining room, away from the bar, near the door. “Where it will be cool but not cold, as pregnancy makes one run hot.”

“Danke Sir, you’re most kind.” I sat down at the table and surveyed the room. My chair was behind a ceiling support beam, which on most nights would be annoying but tonight provided enough cover and concealment, as I just wanted to eat and be left alone. The room was half full, conversations creating a blanket of noise with the occasional word slipping out from underneath. At various tables were troops from the different armies taking part in REFORGER. Looks like the Brits and Canadians were well represented and there was even a sprinkling of Italians.

At the long table that ran half the length of the room, sat a squad of Gurkhas. You wanna put the ‘bad’ in ‘badass’, it was the hard drinking little men with the big knives from Nepal. Had heard stories about them like forever; they were insanely brave, fiercely loyal and so ferocious in battle that nobody in their right mind wanted to fight them. And if you heard ‘Ayo Gurkhali’ (the gurkhas are here!), be prepared to be screwed without a kiss in sight.

The bar maid came over in bit carrying a tray with a plate full of potato dumplings and gravy, along with a mug of hot cider. She set the plate, silver wear and mug in front of me. “Gutes essen” (meaning: enjoy your meal). Figured I might as well pay for supper now rather than try to flag her down later, so could just get up after dinner and head upstairs.

“Danke,” and I dug in. Oh man, this stuff is good. Yes, it’s nothing but egg, mashed potatoes and starch to hold it all together, drowning in beef fat with milk and flour. Fattening as hell, will probably give me heart burn, but at this point, I’m hungry, this is tasty and want to get most of it eaten before I doze off and fall face first into the plate.

Was half way through dinner when the door opened and an oddly familiar whiny American accented voice filled the room. “Goddamn slick spick, he had no right to talk at me like that!” 

The next voice is what stopped my fork half way to my mouth. “Richardson, vous couillon. You rude to him in front of his men. That ‘second louie’ had no choice but to rip you a new ass hole in three different languages and you deserved it.”

Benny! 

Peeked out from behind the pillar to watch him, another guy and oh yeah I remember you Richardson from out at Fort Riley,* take a table about six feet away and slightly to the left of where I was sitting. Benny took the chair that put his back to me while the other guys took seats to either side of him. He took off his field jacket, stretched catlike, allowing the muscles to ripple under his fatigue blouse. 

Oh Handsome, being a squad leader up on The Gap has done you good! Oh crap, could feel a bead of slick start to tickle its way down my channel. The last thing I need is room full of alphas knowing there is one lonely little omega with wet pinks. Come on kegel muscles, keep that drip up there. As I was trying not to squirm, was also trying to listen in on their conversation.

They talked about various parts of their day, being in on the REFORGER exercise with the Big Red One, Richardson complaining that he didn’t get a chance to lead where as Benny and the other fellow apparently did. “Maybe tomorrow they’ll ask you,” the other guy said in the tone of voice that was both appeasing but also whispered ‘not a chance in Hell’. The bar maid came over and took their beer orders.....beer....do I want one in the worst way.

They talked a little bit longer when Richardson and Benny got up to hit the head. That of course is when their beers arrived. They looked sooooooo good! That’s it! I want a sip! If I could have a drag on a ‘cowboy killer’, the smidgeon-ist of beer ain’t gonna kill me. Get up, walk over to the their table and reach over for Richardsons stein. “Hey,” the guy sitting there started to get up. “What are you do....,” and that’s when I locked lips with him. Including tongue, I might add.

Mmmmm for a pregnant omegas kiss there’s nothing an alpha or beta man would’nt do for us (which it the other reason why alpha and beta women hate us). Including destroy the pup in our wombs to put theirs in-not the pleasant part of that deal. Anywho, let loose of him with a cork like pop. “Now be a good boy, sit quiet and let papa have his sip.” I could’ve polished off the whole thing and this guy would’ve just sat there with a silly grin on his face.

Maybe I shouldn’t have drank down half, but it was soooooo goooooood! Now need to get back to my table, finish dinner and blow this popcicle stand. “Close your eyes,” gave him one more kiss and rushed back to my table behind the pillar. Course he’s up and looking around for me, but the cold air creeping in front door has masked my scent, so I might as well have disappeared into a magicians hat.

Course, that’s when Benny and Richardson came back. “What the fuck,” ‘Bitch-er-son’ picked up his stein. “Why’d you drink my beer Kent?”

Well, nice to know who I kissed. “I didn’t,” he replied with a big shit eating grin. “An angel swooped down from Heaven and did it.”

Benny put a hand on his friends forehead. “Rich, are you alright? You been out de cold all day with narry a rest. You coming down with something?”

“Nope,” Lt Rich Kent leaned his chair back and laced his fingers behind his head. “I been kissed by the Angel of Thursday on a Monday. Now that’s something to write home about.”

EEEEEEKKKKK! Er....ahem.....lower octave please....OH SHIT!...That’s better. How does he know who I am?

“You still owe me a beer!” Richardson bawled out. “Hey you, kraut frau! Another beer! Chop! Chop!” Oh man, what a jerk. The bar maid ignored him and went to bring another bottle to the Gurkas.

“Sit down and shut up!” Benny ordered. He turned to the lady, “my apologies Sha for the idiot in our midst. He a Yankee and don’t know no better.” Ouch. To call a Texan a Yankee. Benny might was well just kicked that dude in the balls. Yeah, yeah, I should be offended but it’s too much fun watching Richardson get his comeuppance.

“Goddamn women, goddamn, Krauts, GODDAMN OMEGAS!” Oops. Looks like the guy is now going list the blames of his world. “Women and slicks have no business being in this alphas army! They’re only getting in and taking places meant for men and alphas!” Had heard that complaint before. Sorry friend, I had to work harder and smarter just to stay even. “It’s because of an omega I missed out being the battalion commander at Texas A & M, that I didn’t get top honors at graduation or the branch I wanted...ALL BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID FUCKEN SLICK!”

Personally, I blame the beer for what happened next. Stand up, grab the biggest, gooiest, gravyest potato ball off the plate and throw it at Richardson. For someone who can throw a knife and have it land between the fingers of a gangster, I can’t throw a ball worth shit. Long and pointy....hell yeah. Small and round, can’t hit the board side of a barn. Course it missed, went sailing across the room and splattered one of the Gurkahs right in the face. They all turned as one in our direction.

I also blame the beer for what I did next. “HE DID IT!” Pointing at a bewildered Richardson.

Bless his little pointy head, the Aggie compounded the problem. “What you looking at ya Gook sons a bitches?”

“AYO GURKHALI!”

As I said, contrary to popular belief, my mommas didn’t raise no fool. Was out the door before the first chair was over turned. On the other hand, they may have raised an idiot. Ran outside without a coat into a freezing cold night. Looked around quick, have to find somewhere to hang out long enough for the Politzi to show up, bust heads.....no...not when the Gurkahs are there, but long enough anyway for ‘German Johnny Law’ to come pick up what was left of Richardson while I slip back to my room. There was a Nah und Gut a block or two up the street that was open. Good will head there. 

And almost made it too, except that I really should’ve started running (sure, that would’ve been a sight) when the sound of feet came pounding up the sidewalk. Just figured it was one of the guys trying to get gone as the ‘wee woo’ sound of the politzi’s sirens are starting to get closer. Well, figured wrong, as I was roughly grabbed and whirled around.

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?” Benny was in full alpha fury. Fire in his eyes and bristling with rage, he grabbed the front of my blouse and pulled me up off my feet till we were nose to nose. “YOU STARTED A RIOT! THOSE LITTLE BASTARDS WERE GOING TO SLICE....”

“Dice and make mounds and mounds of julienne fries out of Richardson,” his buddy Rich Kent came strolling up as if it were a typical Monday night in the berg. “A far better use of that nitwit, than what he’s been doing on our little ‘magical mystery tour’ so far.” He turned to Benny, “dude, put him down, so we can be properly introduced.” Grudgingly, the big alpha set me back on the sidewalk. “Hi there, Rich Kent here.” He took my hand and kissed the finger pads. “Friend of this big lug here since our first day at The Citadel. Had gotten a whiff of enough of your letters to know that peach scent anywhere. And had I known what you planned, I’da let you drink Richardsons beer for the asking." He winked, “no kisses necessary.” A growl escaped from deep inside Benny’s throat.

“Well glad to meet you finally Good Alpha Kent, Lt Lafitte did mention you in his letters. When HE WROTE THEM. I hadn’t received any in months.” The Cajun had the good graces to look a little embarrassed.

“Ooooo, can I have your autograph?” Rich fished in his pockets for a pen and the small note pad every good second lieutenant should be carrying. “I have all the copies of ‘Mega you’re in. Glanced over and Benny’s face was the color of a rotten strawberry. Took the note pad and pen, then signed four pages with a flourish. ‘To Alpha Rich Kent, Love- Cal State.’

“Rich, get gone.” Benny turned to his friend. “GO!” His friend, who obviously knew when to make a timely exit, took off down the street like a shot.

“Why does everthing have to be so hard with you?!” Jesus Christ, did all my alphas get together and compare notes? “Why can’t things be easy with you!?”

“Really? Why do I make everything so hard? You’re the one who didn’t have the balls to tell me you didn’t want write me any more. Or even give a reason why you had to. No! I had to hear it from Hugh Ashton. What am I? Just some smash and grab? A knot hole you fuck while you’re passing by?” Oooo, that’s harsh. But he deserved it. “Aren’t we Mr high and mighty?” The nasty little voice that passes for my conscience pipes up. “Oh didn’t we do something like that to someone? Oh good old what’s his name....Spock was it?” I did the same thing to him. Ignored his calls and did everything to avoid him. I suck and not in a fun way.

Benny ripped off his cap and ran a hand through his short hair. “I’M SORRY! I didn’t wanna hurt you..or me. But, did Daddy also tell you I almost killed a man because of you?! That I was ready to rip his throat out for just sayin bad things about your picture in that magazine?! Do you know how hard it is to see your centerfold up on some guys locker?” Then his voice broke, “do you know how hard it is to get you out of my heart?” Then one of the strongest men I ever knew, went to his knees in tears. “I can’t. There like an ache I can forget about for months until your face is before my eyes and it brings all back. Oh Little Dove, I love you so bad.”

“I’m sorry too.” Angled myself down to put my arms around him. “I’m sorry for everything you had to go through. I’m sorry Benny Lafitte that I can’t get you from my heart either. My Benny.” 

We ended up back at my little room with the idea we would just warm up, talk and then go our separate ways. Course it didn’t end up that way. We shared that narrow bed, making love and promises we knew we couldn’t keep. I awoke the next morning with him gone and a note on the bedside table.

Little Dove,

Il faut je m'en vas. (I have to go)

Au revoir (Goodbye)

Benny

 

Crumpled the message and tossed it against the wall. “Goddamn you to Hell Benny Lafitte!” I sobbed. But just as fast, scrambled out of bed and crawled across the floor to the note. “Why do you do this me?” I wailed, picking up the little scrap of paper, smoothing it out and holding to my chest like a wounded bird. “Why do I do this to me?!” Wept and rocked for a little while, until I couldn’t stand myself any more. Folded the note and tucked it into my wallet. 

There is a lot to be said about duty. It can raise a man from the depths of sleep, drunkenness or sorrow. Looks like Old Man Moore, Lewistons father in law was right. I guess, like the Reynolds, I am nothing if not dutiful. Showered, shaved and got dressed. I’m Lieutenant Novac with a job to do. Not some weepy little omega pussy. 

The ride back to K-town was very quiet. Neither Myndisue or I felt much like talking. Especially when the convoy passed Münchberg, the Specialist looked toward the east and blew a kiss. “Bye Cutie. It was scary fun.” 

A little further down the road, I took out my wallet, there was Benny’s note between the d-marks, dollar bills and other little scraps of paper. I’m Lieutenant Novac, Omega Winchester and nothing if not dutiful. Opened the window just enough to put my fingers through, letting Bennys little scrap of paper fly away into the German countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back folks to the interesting day in the life of one 2nd Lt Novac. Thank you all for reading, your comments have been welcome, enlightening and will work on putting in your suggestions. Thank you again. 
> 
> Hladit Hada Bosou Nohou: instead of saying ‘walking into the lions den, a Czech would say ‘to pat or stroke a snake with bare feet’. 
> 
> This is based on a true incident that happened to a good friend of mine when she was stationed in West Germany in the early 1980’s. Only instead of being at night in the winter, she and her driver ended up five miles inside of Czechoslovakia in broad daylight on a summers day. The only reason they got out was because nobody didn’t wanted to do the paper work and the driver gave up his Newports.
> 
> Long way to go and short time to get there- And of course you know is from: "East Bound and Down" a song written by Jerry Reed and Dick Feller, and recorded by Reed for the soundtrack for the movie Smokey and the Bandit. The song features Reed on the lead vocal, and vocalist Gordon Stoker of the Jordanaires on the harmony vocal. It was released in August 1977 as a single on RCA Records” -Wikipedia 
> 
> Tourist map: don’t laugh. That’s all the 82nd Airborne had when they invaded Grenada and they had to go to the local travel agent to get that. Of course the first thing someone asked when told of the plan was ‘why are we invading Spain?’ The Michelin Tire company first started printing their guide books in 1900 as a way to boost sales of tires and cars. Fodor’s officialy started printing their travel guides in1949, though their founder, Eugene Fodor first began writing travel commentaries in 1936 when in the introduction to his first work: ‘On the Continent—The Entertaining Travel Annual,’ Fodor wrote "Rome contains not only magnificent monuments, but also Italians." 
> 
> Straße: German for street, pronounced ‘strass’
> 
> The roads didn’t improve in the border area until after German Unification. 
> 
> Cheap Charlie: a derogatory term for a miserly or stringy person. Used largely in countries in Southeast Asia, it likely originated in Vietnam during the Vietnam War to refer to American GI’s who were unwilling to spend lots of money at bars, restaurants or for whores.
> 
> https://germanfoods.org/recipe/pichelsteiner-stew/ 
> 
> http://www.beyondkimchee.com/peach-kuchen-german-peach-cake-with-canned-peaches/ 
> 
> Lili Marlene: is a German love song about a soldier and the girl who waits for him under a street lamp. It became popular during World War II throughout Europe and the Mediterranean among both Axis and Allied troops. Written in 1915 as a poem, the song was published in 1937 and was first recorded by Lale Andersen in 1939 as "Das Mädchen unter der Laterne" ("The Girl under the Lantern") 
> 
> https://ww2-weapons.com/german-uniforms/#0ZwgA2HtyRwrMFct.99 
> 
> Höllbach is a river of Bavaria, Germany. For 1.7 km it forms the border between Germany and the (now)  Czech Republic -Wikipedia
> 
> ‘Bahlsen has been making cookies for 125 years. It’s called Afrika because it’s a waffer cookie covered in chocolate made from West African cocoa beans. 
> 
> Apfelschorle is a popular soft drink in Switzerland, Germany and Austria. It consists of carbonated mineral water and apple juice.  
> 
> Edeka nah und gut : Edek a is a German supermarket chain, that ranges from little neighborhood convenient stores (nah und gut meaning ‘small and good’) to the large mega markets. 
> 
> POZAR!  
> Československá socialistická republika  
> Höllbachův kontrolní bod
> 
> ATTENTION!  
> Czechoslovak Socialist Republic  
> Höllbach's checkpoint
> 
> The poem our ‘Bad Czech’ is reciting is from ‘The Evening Song’ by Vítězslav Hálek:  5 April 1835, in Odolena Voda – 8 October 1874) a Czech poet, writer, journalist, dramatist and theatre critic. He is considered one of the most important representatives of The Májovci ("May School") which were a significant group of Czech novelists and poets of the second half of the 19th century-Wikipedia 
> 
> 'Haribo makes children happy, and grownups too': the jingle for Harbo gummy bears. It rhymes better in German 
> 
> Find a feed bag for a mule or get a TR-double EE: were jokes played on newbees. A mule was a platform utility truck-think the army version of a heavy duty golf cart, and a TR-double EE, they were sending you out to find a tree.
> 
> Servus: think of a Bavarian version of ‘aloha’, meaning it can be used for hello and goodbye.
> 
> Kartoffelklösse: it’s yummy, fattening as hell and my ex-mother in law used to make it every now and again. https://www.quick-german-recipes.com/german-potato-dumplings.html 
> 
> Lt Richardson first appears as Cadet Richardson in *Cadet Novac: Chapters 45 to 50


	6. Happy Birthday Jeff

Warning: period offensive language and the start of late 70's bad designer fashion

 

“Happy Birthday to you......” My little man is one year old today. “Happy Birthday to you....” A year ago today, 15th of February, my water broke on the bus going from RIT to down town Rochester....“Happy birthday dear Jeffery.....” I kicked a doctor off his chair for slicing me like a turkey on Thanksgiving and the son of a bitch gassed me up like a 67 Chevy...... “Happy birthday to you”.... Jeffery George Hugh Ashton Benjamin Novac-Winchester.

Jeff was holding court from his highchair with Ben, Tasha Banes and her pups all around the kitchen table. My household goods arrived last week, it was nice to have my big bed again and the mismatched living room set from college. Maybe next year when I get promoted to 1st Lieutenant will invest in something better....or not. But it’s good enough for the time being.....now if my car would ever show up.....

My ‘adult’ (and there are times I use that term rather loosely) alphas couldn’t be at their son’s first birthday party, which I understand, intellectually. Emotionally, not so much. Dean had gone to Paris-something about a case and John was in Washington DC with General Haig for the next two weeks. Had called his office before he left and that’s when I found out that Jo Harvelle was on his staff cuz she answered the phone! “I’m sorry,” Captain Bitchface said in a snotty voice (okay not really BUT) “the General is ‘unavailable’.” Apparently she took Delassandros place when he was promoted and told to get lost. Christ on a Crutch! That’s like replacing mumps with measles. It was only after I told her who I was and she better get John on the phone before I go to the train station, come up there and kick her ass across the English Channel, that Harvelle decided that maybe it might be a good idea to make sure MY MATE as available.

“What is SHE doing there?! Do you know Jo Harvelle’s the reason I had a falling out with Dean!” I howled into the receiver when John finally came on the line.

“Well hello to you too.......Really?” Hate it when he’s all calm and I’m all hormonal.

“She’s the reason why I was pineing out at RIT and that I caught them in bed together down at Fort Bragg! She makes one move toward you and she’s fucking dead meat! And nobody will ever find your body either!”

John chuckled,“I should send her flowers then.”

“I’m serious about killing your ass!”

“So am I....about the flowers part. Because of what she did, I got your sweet ass.”

“I don’t know whether to stay mad or be flattered.” Had taken a more pouting tone now. Hormones, can’t live with em, can’t shoot any body. Oh, I could but.....

“Oh definitely stay mad. Alpha God, you’re at your sexiest when you’re pissed off.” John’s voice turned as smooth at slick and twice as sweet. “Your eyes shine like bottled lightning, those little nipples get all perky through that nursing shirt and the scent that comes off your body.....makes me wanna eat you alive!” Ooooooo, this isn’t fair for an alpha to get his omega worked up and wet only to leave me high and dry. Okay, that didn’t make a lot of sense but you get the picture any way. “Now that cluster fuck of a REFORGER is over, I can come down to see you and the pup in a couple of weeks.” 

“Promise you’ll come and see me?” Hate sounding that needy and weak but I do need him.

“Promise Lambkin.” Then he went on a few minutes more about what he was going to do once he got here. Oh yeah, had ‘Spurs’ on frappe that night. But anyway, ahem....Birthday of littlest Novac-Winchester, mind out of gutter and back on the sidewalk.

Had gotten a small vanilla cake with cherry frosting from the Harlem bakery. Had opted out of chocolate because getting those stains out of Jeff’s clothes requires a little more effort then what I have time for these days. Had bought a little larger cake from them too so Jeff could celebrate his birthday during the day with Helva and Rufus’s grandpups. Had remembered in time that Germans don’t mention your birthday until the day itself, it’s bad luck to say anything before. And that the birthday boy or girl (or their parents) have to buy their own cake. So, plunked down the cash for a plain yellow sheet cake (had looked longingly at the ‘Bee Sting’ cake but it has too many hard things for little mouths) that had Alles Gutes zum Geburtstag Jeff written in frosting on the top.

Mean while back at the ranch or in this case Apartment 3C, presents came out before the cake: ‘Pat the Bunny’ book from the Banes. Well, I guess Bunny will be making friends with Nattie Bumpo, Allen Breck-Stewart and Hunter S. Thompson. Ben gave a little foot ball jersey that said: ‘Kaiserslautan High School’ on it. From his fathers came a 25 dollar savings bond and a baseball mitt. I gave him blocks, some new to him clothes and an empty cardboard box. Which you knew would be his favorite present. Couldn’t take his old box from Fort Lee (oh he had a shit fit over that) so a new ‘birthday box’ was a must have, courtesy of the officers club here on post. 

“Aby! Pala!” He yelled happily banging his spoon on the tray of the high chair. Being it had once contained Jack Daniels bottles, the box was mostly black. So it became ‘Aby’....his version of ‘Baby’. Having been on rides in the big car with his Da-Dean, Jeff wanted his own Impala. 

I lit the candle on his cake so we all could blow it out. Cut a tiny piece for the birthday boy and set it on a paper plate laying it in front of him.

“Oh I wish it stayed this easy,” Tasha sighed as she watched Jeff quickly turn his piece of cake into moosh. I snapped off a few shots with the camera I’d picked up at the PX the other day. Gotta have something to embarrass him in years to come when future girl friends or omegas come to call. Not that ANY of them will ever be good enough for him. “An empty box, some books, a t-shirt and the pups are happy as clams in deep water.” She took a few bites of cake and a sip of coffee, (I watched her swallow it and had to live vicariously through her taste buds. Even if it was just instant coffee.) “after that it’s bicycles, Barbie dolls and GI Joes. And worse!” She leaned in as if not wanting her pups to hear, “when they become teenagers, the big thing now is DESIGNER JEANS!”

“Designer what?” Finishing school didn’t talk about this. Purses and shoes, yes, but jeans?

“Blue jeans,” Tasha confirmed. “They slap some idiots name on the ass pocket and jump the price up to $35 to $40 dollars.”

“For a pair of dungarees?!” I was aghast. Levi’s or Lee’s were less then $10 in the PX. “You gotta be sh.....sugar.....shocking me.”

Course Max turns to Alesa, “he was gonna say shit. Just like daddy does when he trips over my bike in the hall way.”

Tasha smacked Max on the back of the head, warned him not to cuss then took another sip of her coffee. “Jordache, Gloria Vanderbilt, Sasson, some guys named Sergio Valente and Calvin Klein, I hear the mates who just got over here from CONUS talking about their teenagers all wanting a pair and complaining that the PX or BX doesn’t carry them. But you also had to have cowboy boots to go with the whole getup. Either Frye or Nocona boots.”

‘Let’s Rodeo’, remembered seeing the ads for Noconas in Mega and Playboy magazines. “Wow, that really sucks.” Ben had the good graces to remain low key and keep quiet about the Dingo boots he had on. It had cost Dean not only the price of the boots but a box of Cuban cigars for those babies to come over from the states in time for Christmas.

About then the phone rang from out in the living room with the one next to my bed in the bedroom chiming in. Looked at the kitchen clock, it’s 07:30 and suddenly got a bad feeling. Nothing good ever happens at this time on a Thursday night. For a brief moment was tempted to just ignore it, but dutifully walked over to the phone stand and picked up the receiver, “Hello, Novac residence.”

“Lieutenant, Captain Austin here.” No ‘sorry to bother you’ or any polite junk like that. Nope, right down to business. ‘Granny Pants’ is still a little miffed at me for keeping him in the dark about one or two little details about myself. Not that he could do anything about it, not with my first ‘mission’ being a ‘success’. Yes the air quotes from Hell are in full session tonight. Sargeant Brown wrote his report, I wrote mine and both told ‘the truth’. That I did faint at that guest house, had to wait a little while before heading out, getting lost out near the Czech border and that I arrived late. Boom, the end. No need to mention Specialist Myndisue and my little adventure with the ‘Bad Czech’. She didn’t tell (or who ever she did mention it to kept their mouths shut) and neither did I.

So I caught shit duties for the next few weeks, but they were no more than what any FNG would’ve ended up with anyway. 

“Sargeant Brown is coming by your place to pick you up,” What? “We got a call from the 92nd MP Company over in Baumholder, apparently Privates Yancy and Weatherfair got themselves in a fight down in the ‘vil’. It started with a shoving match with some other troops in front the Bop City Club on Kennedyallee (Kennedy Ave.). Which escalated in to a brawl with who ever walked by.” 

Oh my aching cruddy back! They couldn’t have been that stupid. Yeah, on the other hand, Yancy and Weatherfair are that dumb. Bop City was one of several ‘black clubs’ that lined one side of Kennedyallee just as the Central Bar is on the same street but on the other side was one of the ‘white clubs’ and heaven help if you tried to get into the others establishments. Had heard stories from the late 60’s on about the color line that went down the middle of Kennedyallee in Baumholder, and looks like those two clowns crossed it.

K-town for all it’s all other issues (mostly drugs and black marketing) didn’t have so much of that problem to deal with.

“Thank the Alpha God,” the Captain continued, it was a Wednesday and midway through the month. Cuz if had been a pay weekend, we would’ve picked em up in dust pan. Even with that, it took bunch of MP’s and Politzi to put things to rest but the front of the place got busted up pretty good and so did a bunch of personnel, including ours. Both Yancy and Weatherfair were kept overnight at the health clinic and are now in the holding cell at the Provost Marshalls office.” 

Knew exactly what was coming next. Had seen Zachariah do this a hundred times in the past.

“Need for you and Sargeant Brown to go down there to pick em up and bring them back. First Sergeant Bellavia and I would like a word with them.” Felt a shiver run up my spine, Belavia was a rather scary man who spoke in a hiss to hide his lisp and had the cold flinty eyes of the snake he reminded me of. I tried to stay out of his way, but for some reason he was fascinated by pregnant omegas, so he went out of his way to find me and study my ever growing belly. 

Captain Austin had a few more words of wisdom before excusing himself to go back to his bonsai club meeting. Some day, that little potted palm on his desk is going to the “Mr Roberts’ treatment. I sighed and hung up the phone. Walked back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry folks, but I gotta go. Duty calls.” Gave a short description of why duty called and what I had to do.”

“Fox gets pulled out in the middle of the night too when there’s no one on staff to run X-ray.” Tasha said, getting to her feet. “Especially on pay day weekend. The troopies are lined up three deep with broken everything.” She turned to her pups, “come on guys, Lt Novac has to go to work.” Cut a few more pieces of cake and sent it home with them.

Now turned to Ben, “my First. Could you watch Jeff tonight? You can stay here....but no friends over.” 

“Hey, would I do that to you?” He said with that grin that just made you wanna smile too. Winchester the Younger had discovered charm plus good looks equals getting almost anything he wants from anybody and is not above using it to his full advantage. Sigh, like father, like son.

“Do I have to remind you of the ‘Great Underwear Incident’ back at RIT?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Ben turned the full force of the ‘Meegle’ smile on me now. ‘Meegle’ was ‘Gleem’ spelled backwards...or kinda sideways with an extra letter tossed in, from the commercial for the toothpaste.

“Yeah, I want to. No friends over, no putting on my pretties, nix nien Frankenstien on the snooping.” Picked Jeff up out of his chair and marched him over to the sink to wash his face and fingers....and his whole self of cake and frosting. “There’s 10 bucks in it for you.” Lisa had put her foot down about Jeff staying over at their place, after they’d watched him the one night last month when I went to Hof. In a way, I couldn’t blame her. He’d caught the 24 hour version of the bug that was going around. In one night and part of the next day, my son pooped, peed and threw up on her, sometimes all at once.

Yeah, Jeff is as welcome over at Casa Winchester as a skunk at a church social.

“If by some chance, I’m not back by morning,” set Jeff in his new box to play. “Mr Turner, the baby sitters mate will be by around 06:00 AM to pick him up. He drives an old Tempo Matador extended cab pick up. He’s the bread man here on post.” Checked the diaper bag to make sure everything was in there for the next day. Diapers, puppy powder, Vaseline, wipes, pistol, yup. Everything’s in there.

Walked into the bedroom to get back in uniform. Ben followed, carrying Jeff under one arm and the box under the other. “Wow, you’re getting big,” he set the pup in his box on the floor then stretched out on the bed to watch as I stripped off the civvies. “How much longer do you have before der tag?’ (the day)” 

“Two months more and it can’t come soon enough.” Ulysses, I love you dear little pup...BUT! You can come out any time now. Am so tired of being tired, having the heart burn from Hell and I WANNA SEE MY FEET AGAIN! Plus, I’m leaking like a sieve. Pick an end and it’s dripping. Have to change the pads in the nursing shirt at least four or five times while at work. Along with the menstrual pads that catch pee drips from messing up my clothes. Oh yeah, I’m a regular old laugh riot to be around. My platoon still thinks I’m a lard ass but a lard ass with a bad temper, long memory and can throw a knife (unlike a potato dumpling) anywhere I want it. So they step careful not to piss off the pregnant omega lieutenant. 

Ben sat up and reached a hand to my belly. Ulysses responded pressing his hand out against my skin to this alpha who was part of his Profound Bond. Ben’s face suddenly changed to an expression of amazement. “He knows who I am, I can feel it.”

“That’s the Profound Bond working. It’s in the blood and spirit of House Winchester and Reynolds. It runs through you, your sister, your cousin Anne and through Jesse, Erika and Sir Winnie.” Laid my hand on his, “it’s especially strong between alphas.” 

“Speaking of alphas, you know I haven’t had any lessons lately,” my naughty First stood and leaned in to nibble on my ear. “You’ve been neglecting your duties to me Madam First and I SO want to be a good alpha.” 

“I’ve been busy as a one legged man in an ass kicking contest, Mein Erster (My First).” Pushed him back on the bed. “Maybe this weekend we can squeeze in a lesson.” 

Mr Pouty Face came to visit, “you’ve been saying that for the last two weeks.”

“And hasn’t something always come up? I’m a platoon leader. I have duties.”

“What about your duty to me?” That almost came out as a whine.

Sighed, he was right, I do owe him that. And (goddamn a bear) I am nothing if not dutiful. “Okay kiddo. IF and that’s a big IF, nothing comes up Saturday night, you may stay and we can have a lesson. Okay?”

“Okay.” Pouty Face gone, Happy Face back.

Got on the fatigues, Ben laced up my boots because it was getting harder to bend over. Maybe I should invest in some tanker boots. At least they zip up the side and could still bend sideways. “Alright, how do I look?”

“Pregnant.....But official.” Good save there kiddo. 

Wallet, keys, note book, pen and three pads go into the pockets. More pads for either end, granola bars, ‘Lovers Kiss’, tape recorder and camera in the briefcase. Okay, all set. Get the great coat and baseball cap off the coat/hat/umbrella stand (yes, I bought one) by the door and put them on. “Hopefully will see you in a few hours, if not, maybe in the morning before Mr Turner gets here.” And with that, I was out the door.

Got down stairs to find the company staff car, a nondescript OD green Ford, waiting for me at the curb with Sargeant Brown at the wheel. I open the door to the front passengers side and slide in. “Hi there Comrade, who’s minding Third Platoon till we get back?” Put my hands on the heat vents to warm them up. Course gloves were the only thing I forgot.

“I left Sargeant Sunder from Second Squad in charge. If anyone can keep those reprobates in line till we get back, it’s her.”

“Good pick.” Lilly Sunder was no nonsense E-5, with a reputation of getting any job she was handed done. She’d been out with an eye infection when I first arrived at the 85th but is back now with an eye patch that gives her a rather swashbuckling look. Which had her squad all talking like pirates for about an hour before they were advised by Sargeant Sunder that play time was over and it was time to get back to work.....or else. What ever that ‘or else’ was, it must have been pretty interesting because those guys and gals snapped to ricki tick. “When did the call come in from the MP’s over in Baumholder?”

The sergeant pulled the car away from the front of the building, out the parking lot and down Florida Loop. “The call came in about 18:30 today from the bears over in ‘The Hole’. Apparently it took a while to get to us cuz Yancy and Weatherfair were not all that talkative at first, then after a while (and some not so gentle persuasion) they opened up like Martha Mitchell on a princess phone.”

Great, if those idiots thought they would be punished less if they didn’t say anything, boy were they wrong. It just made it worse on themselves.

Baumholder was roughly just under an hour away but the weather was not cooperating. It was snowing....again. REFORGER to be cut short the early part of this month when the higher ups decided they’d lost too much time, man power and face to continue. A success was declared and everyone went home. 

But not before I led another convoy two days after we got back from Hof to deliver supplies to Baumholder and then a quick run up to ‘Wild Chicken’....er.....Wildflecken training area, to make sure the guys had their toilet paper and makings for ‘shit on a shingle’. So now am making return trip to Baumholder, but am slowed because flurries. Great, I’m gonna kill Yancy and Weatherfair.

The base was up in the hills of southwestern Germany about an hour from the French border. Which of course made the weather suck even more of course. The garrison was made up of three smaller concerns that surround the city of Baumholder. Smith Barracks (our destination) Strassburg Kaserine in the nearby town of Idar-Oberstein and Neubruecke, near the city of Birkenfeld. 

Pull up to the main gate of Smith Barracks about 21:00, stopped and got out our ID’s. “Good evening,” the guards blinded us with the beam from their flash light. “How can I help you folks tonight?” He studied those little squares of plastic like they were made up in Moscow last week. “What’s your business here tonight Sirs?”

“I ain’t no ‘sir’ Sargeant Brown growled at the gate guard. “I work for a living.” Then turned to me, “no offense.”

“None taken,” leaned over to speak at the spec 4 who seemed to seemed to be taking this part of his job a little too seriously. “Specialist, if you could blow out a few of the candles in that million candle watt bulb you’re shining at us, it would be much appreciated. Even though the blue and yellow spots I’m seeing are pretty, I’d rather enjoy em when I don’t have work to do. We’re here from the 85th QM Company over in K-town to pick of two of our men, who’d gotten in a fight down in the ‘vil’. Which way to the Provo Marshalls office?”

My voice was pleasant enough but carried with it a touch of impatience and just the tiniest pinch of threat. Learned that one from Naomi-Mom and perfected it under the tutelage of Crowley Dad. The Specialist did take the hint...FINALLY....clicked off the flashlight, stuck in his web belt, then handed us back our ID’s. He also gave the directions where the MP station was and FINALLY let us through.

The MP station was a left over from the days when the German army took over the area, moved out the villagers from several towns turning the considerable acreage into a training area and military base. So the residents of ‘Happy Valley’ got to deal with the Nazi’s, French and now the Americans. I suspect the locals were only happy to see the money not who ever the standing force was then or now. We find a place to park and stepped out of the car. Turned my face to the sky for a moment, letting the fat snow flakes pepper my skin with cold wet kisses. I wanted to be home in bed, either reading the Last of the Mohicans or More Than Brothers. Becky Rosen, you are one weird chick for writing some boo coo dinky dau shit like that. But have to admit.....it’s fun boo coo dinky dau shit.

Okay Novac, let’s go get this over with. Sargeant Brown holds the door for me, as I walk into the building. Inside there is a counter and buck sergeant sitting behind it writing in a duty log. “Excuse me, Sargeant...” look at his name tape, “Sullivan. I’m Lt Novac and this is Sgt First Class Brown. We’re from the 85th Quartermaster Company in Kaiserslautern. We’re here to pick up Privates Yancy and Weatherfair.”

The NCO looked up and then immediately stood and walked away into the back rooms behind the counter.

“Was it my breath?” Turned to Sargeant Brown. “Or something I said?”

Wisely, the good Sargeant struck a pose of contemplation. Jokes made by ones superior officer can either be very funny or incredibly stupid. Considering the length of Brown’s contemplation, this evening I’d be right to error on the side of stupid.

A few minutes later Sgt Sullivan came back with his boss, a female alpha first lieutenant. “Evening Lt Novac, Sargeant Brown, I’m Lt Christine Barker. Understand you’re here for Privates Yancy and Weatherfair.”

“That’s correct,” I just wanna get those clowns and get outta here. “Let’s just get the paper work signed and we can take.............”

“I’m very sorry that you came all this way, but they’re not here.”

“WHAT?!” Okay...this is definitely not OK. “Where are they then?”

“They were transferred over to the base hospital up in Neubruecke; apparently the injuries they sustained during the altercation were worse then what the doctor over at the health clinic first determined.”

“When were they transferred?” Sargeant Brown asked, in a voice let everyone know he was polite BUT not a happy camper.

The lieutenant checked the duty log. “They were sent up about 14:00 this afternoon.”

“Wait? What?” Now, I’m getting pissed. “I didn’t get the call from our company commander until 19:30. “What the fu.............fick.....is going on here?!”

Lt Barker wasn’t rattled but obviously not happy with the performance of her command staff. “Communications kind of fell through the cracks this afternoon because about that time we had a bomb scare at the high school. Someone called claiming they were part of the Red Army Faction and had planted a bomb at the school. The pups were all evacuated and teams were brought in to search. Course we found nothing, it was probably just some student who wanted to get out of a test.”

Micheal and Luci did that once or twice. Some how they never got caught, which you’d think with the reputation we Novacs enjoyed, they should’ve been the first to be suspected. Nope, they never were, probably because they always used the phone in the principles office, when he’d be lured out by the firecrackers Anna set off. Yup, my sister would get pulled into my older brothers schemes from time to time.

“Anyway,” Lt Barker continued. “By the time we got back and made the call, it was the first message that was called in, not the second.” How this woman was keeping her cool and a straight face was beyond me. Obviously her superiors had left her to explain this shit storm and face the wrath of who ever showed up. “We got the second message out but until after 20:00.” And we were on the road by then, course the staff car didn’t have a CB radio. Note to self, have one put in.

Well, I’m done here. “How do we get to Neubruecke?” Found it was 10 miles west on the L169. Wonderful, another half hour on the road. Thanked the Lieutenant (she did out rank me) and then walked back outside to the car. Kicked the tire, flung open the door and got in. The snow hadn’t slowed any and yeah, it was about 30 minutes to get there. The MP’s at this gate were about as bad as the other ones with their zillion candle watt flash lights and let’s tick off the pregnant omega leautenant with stupid questions..........AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! 

“Sir, you can’t shoot them.” Sargeant Brown said mildly as he watched me going for the briefcase. “Not that it wouldn’t be entertaining. But the paper work would be a bitch and ‘Granny Pants’ has a hard on for you anyway.” True enough, sigh. 

The base hospital sat on the side of small rise and the staff car fish tailed it way up to the parking lot. For a facility that takes care of a huge number of personnel in this whole neck of the woods, it maybe has 50 beds if that but at least Private Weatherfair is in one them with his arm in a sling and his leg in a cast.

“I only sprained my wrist in the fight,” he drawled. “It got broke along with my leg when I tripped and fell over this pup who was crawling around the floor in the waiting room of the health clinic.”

Weatherfair was a big chunk of a good ole boy beta from North Georgia near the town of Helen. “How you feeling Private?” I pulled up a chair and sat down at his bedside. My back was starting to kill me from the tension and uncomfortable bench seat in the staff car. Sargeant Brown in the mean time had gone off to find Pvt Yancy. “Mind explaining how all this happened?” Was trying to keep a neutral tone and not grab his bed pan beat him to death with it. “Your leave forms said you were going to the recreation center in Garmisch. How did you end up in Baumholder?”

“Well,” he began. “We were picking up my second cousin twice removed on my mommas side.....he’s from Ellijay just across the Chattahoochee Woods a piece from Helen. He daddy work at the PDQ soap factory.............”

“Focus,” I said with a touch of irritability and the smell of burnt peaches to go with it. “You came to Baumholder to pick up your cousin.”

“He’s in artillery,” Weatherfair said quickly. “We was driving down the Kennedyallee, when we’d stopped at the traffic light and these pretty fur-lines came up to the car......” Course they had to talk to em and then follow them into the Central Bar. Have some drinks, watch a couple of porno movies, get a blow job (more then what I wanna know) so now of course it’s dark and around 22:00 on Wednesday night. “We hear the music coming from Bop City, cross the street” (oh my ache’n cruddy back!) “and just stop to listen for a moment or two.” Apparently some of the people going into the club objected to them standing there, words were said (“do you know what those red assed baboons said about my momma?!”) there was shoving, followed by punches, followed by things being ripped up and thrown. 

Apparently Weatherfair sprained his wrist on the jaw of a Spec 4 cook and Yancy was pushed by someone, fell and hit his head on the pavement. “He got right back up, but later at the health clinic, Kevin was saying he had a headache bad and that his one eye wasn’t focusing. That’s when I got up to get help and before the MP could do anythin, I tripped over that pup and broke stuff.” He looked ruefully at his plaster covered arm, “it itches like a son of gun.”

About that time, Sargeant Brown came back. “Yancy ain’t here. Apparently he was put in a ‘dust off’ about three hours ago and sent down the hospital at Landstuhl.....”

“LANDSTUHL! THAT’S RIGHT DOWN THE ROAD FROM K-TOWN! HELL, IT’S RIGHT DOWN THE ROAD FROM BAUMHOLDER! WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?” Course that’s when a nurse came in and told me to keep it down as she had patients who were trying to sleep. “Colonel”, look at her name plate, “Johnston....with all due respect to the eagle on your collar and your volumes of experience in this man’s army, but this is the BIGGEST GODDAMN CLUSTER FUCK I’VE EVER SEEN AND HAVING GROWN UP IN A MILITARY FAMILY, THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING!”

“You got that off your chest little boy?” The nurse had her hands on her hips, “I could have you up on charges for insubordination, like that!” She snapped her fingers under my nose. “But you’re right, this has been nothing BUT a cluster fuck and so kind of you to point that out. The only thing saving your ass right now is that you’re pregnant and a second lieutenant which makes a bad combination for keeping ones yap shut. So I will over look it this time, but you say one more disrespectful thing to me and I will have you drummed out of this alphas army so fast your ass won’t catch up with the rest of ya until you’re halfway cross the Atlantic!”

Opened my mouth to say something ridiculous like ‘do you know who I am’, when a stinging kick in the shin cut me off. Yeah it’s good to have an NCO around when their officer is gonna be stupid. “Yes, Colonel, sorry about that Colonel.” Course, let’s add insult to injury, Ulysses woke up and decided to do his Muhammand Ali impression and use my bladder as a punching bag. Oh thank the Alpha God for that pad. “Excuse me,” dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Yank down the pants and, oh man, the pad is soaked. Now, just sit down on the toilet and let the tears fall. There was a tap on the door and before I could say ‘will be right out’, the Colonel slipped right in.

“You’ve had quite the evening”, she said briskly, taking my wrist and checking her watch. “Going from pillar to post. Roll up your sleeve,” I’d shucked off the great coat on to the floor here in the bathroom and it lay in a crumpled pile next to the toilet. “Not a nice way to treat this fine old trooper that keeps you and your pup warm,” Col Johnston said picking it up and hanging the coat on the back of the door. She then plucked the blood pressure cuff off the shelf on the wall, wrapped it around my arm and started pumping. Then took the stethoscope from around her neck, shoving the ends in her ears. “Whew, you better calm down there sonny, before you blow a gasket and that pup shoots out like a cork from a shook up bottle of Pepsi.” Then she takes a listen to my belly. “Strong heart beat, no sounds that shouldn’t be there. Okay, he flipped over, so it shouldn’t be long now. First or second pup?”

“Second,” I said miserably. This is embarrassing, sitting there on the toilet hormoning and for once not being able to stop talking. “It’s my son’s first birthday today. Had invited in the neighbors and my First to have a little party and had just cut the cake when the phone call came in for this mishugana.” 

“So, you’re a Madam First. How many alphas have you ‘brought from darkness into the light’?

Ah, the shorthand of those in the know. The good Colonel either has or knows intimately a Madam First, as that is the phrase whispered into the ear of the young alpha at the moment before dawn of the next morning. “Three and a friend of the light.” A friend of the light, meaning a beta who has been given knowledge, like Asa. “And you.....?”

“Saw the sunrise when I was 13. My Madam First owed my Father his life when Dad rescued him from Waregem, Belgium. Dad was with the 91st Division during the Ypres-Lys offensive, near the tail end of the war in November of 1918. Repaid the debt when I presented.” Then she brushed a tear from her eye, “he didn’t make it out of the camps.” 

“For those who came before us and whose who’ll come after us,” I intoned with steepled hands pressed together for the traditional prayer of the First. Was feeling a little more centered now, duty is an amazing thing, as I’m coming to find out. And I am nothing if not dutiful. Wiped my eyes with a piece of shit paper and blew my nose gustily. “Could you get the pads out of the pocket of the coat, please ma’am? I’m leaking like a cow at milking time.”

Col Johnstons eyes lit up, “if I bring in a breast pump do you think you could express some? There’s a ‘premie’ down in the nursery that’s failing to thrive and we’ve been out of ‘mega’s milk for almost a year.” Okay, why not. Anything for the cause. So the Colonel went to collect the pump, in the mean time Sargeant Brown turned on the TV so he and Weatherfair could watch ‘Star Trek’ re-runs on AFN. 

The whole process took less then 30 minutes, as I was full and the hospital breast pumps chugged like the milking machines you see on the bottom side of a cow. The hospital got a quart and I got sore nipples. It all worked out in the end, Weatherfair wouldn’t be going with us tonight as his doctor wouldn’t authorize him to be moved until Monday. Oh ‘Granny Pants’ is gonna love that. Yancy had been choppered down to Landstuhl because they had a...a...

“Computed Axial Tomography machine,” explained Col Johnston. “They just got it in last week. This thing can take pictures of the inside of your head, it can see the brain from all sides. Just like a 3D movie, only you don’t need the glasses. With an x-ray you can only see bone, with the CAT scan, you can see soft tissue.” 

“That’s really neat.”

“It is,” the Colonel said happily. “Had been reading about it in the medical journals for months and now the army has one here in Europe.” Then she turned to both Sargeant Brown and me, “you two need to get a move on. It’s late, the weather’s shitty and you’ve got a long drive a head.”

She was right of course, about the weather being shitty. We didn’t get to the hospital in Landstuhl until about 02:00 in the morning. Captain Austin was there waiting for us. Apparently he arrived at the hospital about 20:30 yesterday and had been there ever since. “Pvt Yancy complained of headaches, then fainted, so he was airlifted down here where they ran him through the damnist machine I ever saw”. Surgeons had operated on Yancy for blood that collected on the left side of his brain above the ear. After he came to and was awake long enough for the doctors to be sure that he wasn’t going to do something against orders like slip into a coma or die, Yancy was allowed to sleep. The doctors had saved him but he’s going to be in the hospital for a while.....“under observation for the possibility of seizures for the next seven days,” the Captain explained. “If there’s nothing, then Yancy comes back to the 85th on light duty for a couple weeks.” If he does seizure, then his time with the army is over.

Am so glad Pvt Yancy is going to be okay. Because I want him good and healthy when I fucking kill him! Excused myself and walked down the hall to get some nasty vending machine coffee. Needed just enough caffeine to stay awake a little longer, just long enough get back to either the company or home. Pumped in a quarter, hit the coffee button, watched the cup fall and the liquid drizzled in. Picked it out and took a sip. Oh Christ! This stuff tastes like ass!

“You must be tired if you’re drinking that horse piss,” turned to see Captain Austin standing behind me.

“A little,” took another sip and grimaced. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Quite. By the way,” ‘Granny Pants’ put in his own quarter for a cup of hot chocolate. “What’s the going rate for getting out of Czechoslovakia these days? Cost me a carton of Newports four years ago.”

Spat a mouth full of coffee all over the front of the vending machine. “Excuse me Sir?”

“Got lost on the way to Hof myself.” He took a sip of the hot chocolate, “don’t know which is worse. The coffee or the coco.” Austin regarding the cup as if it personally offended him before tossing it a near by waste basket. “Knew your report was not as correct as it could have been as the radio interference doesn’t start up until AFTER you cross the border.” Oops. “I didn’t turn your report into battalion until you had a chance to make the corrections and didn’t have the opportunity to speak to you about it until now. Which, suggest you might want to make after you leave here.” Meaning: get that report done like yesterday. “By the way, you might wanna get some paper towel from the men’s room and get that coffee cleaned up.” 

Oh sure, he didn’t have time in the last three weeks to say anything? But then again with REFORGER and then its aftermath, guess maybe he didn’t have the time and I’d made myself pretty scarce. “Will have the report corrected, Sir. Where is the men’s room and it now costs two packs of Marlboros, a four pack of Charman, Afrika cookies and three bags of gummy bears.” 

“The price went up.” ‘Granny Pants’ clucked his tongue and sighed. “Inflation hits everything.”

“Quite.” 

An hour later, after releasing Sgt Brown to return the staff car to the motor pool, Captain Austin gave me a ride back to the company area and I dragged myself up to the second platoon office. Sat down at the desk, pulled out the report forms, rolled them into the old Underwood and started typing. It took longer this time because one: there was more to story and two: I’m so freaken tired. But as the office clock clicked to 06:00 AM, could hear the company forming up in the street for morning roll call, announcements and then off to mess.  
,  
Got up from the desk and went over to the window. Could see the assembled 85th (Rip, Tip, Talley Ho) the other platoon leaders and sergeants. Standing in front of Second Platoon were Sunder and Brown. Had a sinking feeling that those two could run the platoon without me but then, that would be true of any platoon. It’s the noncoms that actually run it on a day to day basis. Not that it actually made me feel any better at this point. Course ‘Granny Pant’s’ was standing out there looking strack, while I’m in here looking like ‘Joe Shit the Rag Man’. He probably got in a nap, shower and change of clothes.

Rested my cheek on the window ledge, think I could fall asleep standing right there. Just want to rest my eyes for a moment. “Excuse me Sir?” Huh? What? Raised my head, Sargeant Sunder was standing in the office door way. Oh dear Alpha God, formation is over? “Captain Austin wanted to know if you were done with your report yet and if you were, to drive you back to your quarters.” Stumbled over to the typewriter, all that was left was to bang the keys for my name. “He said not to be back here until Monday morning.”

“But Sargeant Brown is....”

“WAS there long enough for formation and he’s going home too. The other squad leaders and I got this Lieutenant.”

“Okay”, took the report out of the roller, gave it a quick check and then signed it. On the way out  
handed the report off to Spec 4 Chickadee and then followed Sgt Sunder out the door to where her car a Volkswagon Fastback was parked. The Fastback like most VW’s (including my own wayward Bug) had an air cooled engine and took forever to warm up (Rochester, NY in winter, yeah that was a joy). She had blankets on the vinyl seats to keep the cold from seeping through and freezing our butts. Tried to stay awake and talk but ended up dozing on and off all the way over. Think the heat just started eking out the vents as we turned up Florida Loop. 

The Fastback glided up in front of Building 1015 and came to a stop. “See you Monday Sir.” Sgt Sunder paused, “do you need any help?”

Oh I wanted say ‘yes’ but I can’t. Can’t be weak in front of the men. Got out, “no thank you Sargeant. Very kind of you to ask though. Great job.” Oh I want my car. Have been taking the shuttle bus and mini-cabs to and from work, will call....call....can’t even think any more. Watched Lilly drive away in a cloud of exhaust, Jesus it’s still freezing. Should’ve remembered Spring time in Germany is always late or non existent. Walked slowly toward the building and tried to open the glass and steel door, oh this thing weighs a ton. Got it ajar enough to wedge my shoulder in and then push myself though.

Now stood at the foot of the stairs wishing I could just curl up in a ball in the corner of the vestibule and hope someone picks me up like an undelivered package. Not happening of course, come on Novac. One foot in front of the other. Slowly but surely made it up one flight. Come on, pretend you got a tea cup on your head. Chin up, chest out, one foot in front in the other. On the second floor landing began to hear music, wow. Somebody’s really cranking tunes. Hope they turn it down before someone complains to the housing office or I will.

But the music kept getting louder the closer I got to the third floor. Yanked open the stair well door and now could hear the wail of guitars and Alice Cooper rasping that ‘Schools out for the summer......!’ Normally I really like that song, but not right now. Problem is, it’s louder the closer I get to my apartment. Until put the key in the lock and let the door swing open to be knocked backward by the sledge hammer of ..........‘School’s out FOREVER!’

Shit! Stalked into the living room and the stereo is cranking Alice like there’s no tomorrow. The album is on the turn table and.....wait....I don’t own any Alice Cooper records. Well I used to until Luci turned em into Frisbees and...I really hate my brother most of the time. But....What the hell? Hit the power button and the song ground to halt. The silence was almost as deafening as the music had been loud.

“Hey,” heard Ben’s voice pipe up. “What happened? Where’s the music?” Stumbled down the hallway to the kitchen and found him as he was getting up from the table to come out to investigate. “Uh Cas, you’re back.” Surprise! Wasn’t expecting me were you? Considering the mess; it looks like I came home in the middle of a food fight as there’s milk and Captain Crunch all over the table and floor. Jeff is in his high chair wearing a cereal bowl on his head, not that he doesn’t look cute with Captain Crunch freckles. But he should be at the Turners. Now to make matters worse, there was also some boy there I didn’t recognize. Now I’m beyond pissed. “Ben, thought I told you not to have any friends over.”

“Cas,” the kid stood up looking a little puzzled and a trifle hurt. “I know it’s been a little while,” (British accent?) but it’s me Jesse. Jesse Reynolds.”

It took a moment for the dime to plink itself way down till it finally fell into place, “Jesse?” At 14, Jesse Reynolds has strung up like a weed and his plump puppy face was changing into a lean younger version of his father, with hints of his mum about the nose and mouth. “Not that it isn’t great to see you, but what are you doing here?” Then turned momentary to Ben, “could you get this mess cleaned up and....why isn’t Jeff at the sitters?”

“Mr Turner called earlier to say his van broke down and that he’d be late. I told him not to worry, had it covered for today.” 

Can’t say that Ben didn’t step up and take command of a situation. “So you took the day off from school to watch Jeff?”

“And keep Jesse company.” Then came that look, the one his father used on me from time to time, the one that said ‘You’re My First, My Last, My Everything’ (cue music and Barry White), “what else are ‘Elder Brothers’ suppose to do but tend to the needs of a ‘Younger Brother’?” In the language and hierarchy of ‘Firsts’ the oldest is referred to as ‘Elder Brother’ and the younger ones....oh you get the picture. In the best of worlds, Firsts are suppose to get along, help each other and their Madam Firsts. What usually happens is jealousy, fighting and possessiveness, a problem inherent with alphas. But some Madam Firsts can manage it, while others just find it easier to keep their Firsts away from each other.

“Ben, does your Mother know you’re still here?”

“Yes.....” then not as confident “well kinda....I left a message on the answering machine.” Lisa is gonna kill me.

This is not the morning for this kinda shit. “Get Jeff and the kitchen cleaned up, I wanna word with Jesse.” I motioned the pup to follow me to my bedroom and when we got there, I closed the door, shucked off the great coat and sat down on the bed. Patted a patch of blanket beside me, “pop a squat and while I’ve still got a couple of brain cells left to rub together, explain what you’re doing here? Last I knew, you at some boarding school....”

“The Kent School in Schwalmtal,” he nodded.

Okay......“That’s about about 3 or 4 hours north. How did you get down here and what time did you get in?” 

Jesse looked proud, “I took the emergency money Mum gave me for the train fare, then this funny little taxi from the Kaiserslautern Hauptbahnhof (it was like fun ride at the amusement park) and then got to the gate and had the guards call here. They had to, I told them you were my Madam First and my father was general.” Oh my aching cruddy back. “Ben came down to the gate, picked me up and brought me back here.” The gate guards were definitely getting an eye full with the Novac-Winchesters. Noticed he dodged the question about when he got here. Suspect it must've been late. Hope Jesse doesn’t toss around the fact he’s a generals son too often. 

“Not that’s it’s not wonderful to see you and it’s great you’ve got the whole German transportation system figured out, but that doesn’t explain what the fuck are you doing here? Do you’re parents know where you are?”

The boy seemed to shrink inside himself. “Nooooooo,” then he launched himself into my arms and the reason why he ran. “Cas, I can’t stay there any more! The dead pups......they’re crying for their mums and dads! They’re tortured and killed! I see and hear them every night! And I’m not the only one. And we’ve tried to tell people but the teachers say it’s just our imaginations and the stories going around that the school was some kind of Bedlum where the Nazis killed people is a lie. But they get to leave after lessons are over and we have to stay.” The tears are flowing down his cheeks, “but it’s not! Cas! It’s real!”

Held my little big First tight. Had heard about those places, ‘hospitals’ were people who were insane, slow or retarded or had something physical wrong went in but didn’t come back out alive. “I know Baby, I know.” Rubbed his back and held him on my shoulder the way I do Jeff when he’s in need of comfort. “I believe you.” There, there’d him until an unpleasant thought came bubbling up. “Jesse, your parents don’t know where you are do they.”

He pulled out of my arms and stood up, “I kinda sorta planned on giving them a tinkle on the blower at the train station...” From the guilty look on his face, kind of suspect the answer is no. “But how can I tell them I ran away!? That I’m scared? Dad’s a hero, he isn’t afraid of anything.”

Oh Baby, if you knew what was behind that stiff upper lipped exterior of Lewiston Reynolds. “Your mum and dad must be out of their minds with worry. Probably thinking that the IRS...as I was....IRA may have grabbed you.” Held out my hand, “help me up. We’re calling your parents.” Walked back out to a now clean kitchen. “You remember what happened when your brother died? The way your folks fell apart?” From the look on his face, the answer was a big ‘yes’. “Come on, let’s make that call.”

And yes, Lewiston and Jenny had thought the worst. Apparently some assbutt pup from the school spread a rumor that the IRA, RAF even the PLO had grabbed Jesse and were holding him hostage for a million pounds ransom. And as stupid an idea that it was, of course people believed it all the more. Even some of the faculty. “Bet it was Jones-Blythwood who said that,” Jesse snorted. “He’s such a big pouncy git.”

“Oh thank the Alpha God!” Jenny wept, when she came on the extension. “I can’t loose another pup, I can’t!” This brought her son to guilty tears.

“I’m sorry Mum, I’m so sorry.” Jesse blubbered into the phone. “Didn’t mean to worry you. Just wanted to get away from school.”

“And you couldn’t tell us what was wrong?” His father said softly. Knew that tone, Lewistons voice always went low when he was concerned. “That it was so awful that you had to run instead of letting us know.”

I’d gone back to the rbedroom to be on the extension phone. Could hear the sound of a tissue being pulled from the box that was on the table and then a nose being blown wetly into the Kleenex. “Didn’t want to disappoint you. You’re big and brave and not afraid of anything Dad!”

“I was afraid of losing you. That was more terrifying then any danger I’ve ever faced.” Then he put a hint of the no nonsense in his voice. “Start at the beginning and tell you mum and I what happened.”  
,  
Here I hung up the extension and went to speak with Ben. Found him in the bathroom washing the milk and Captain Crunch off Jeff in the tub. “All things considered, with the exception of the food fight and the stereo cranked to 42, you done good. You took responsibility for Jeff and vouching for Jesse. I’m very impressed.”

The smug look on Ben’s face lasted just long enough to hit by a rubber ducky. “Hee hee,” Jeff clapped his hands, splashed water all over and then unleashed the ‘dimples of death’.

Grabbed the little rascal out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel before handing him over to brother. “If you can keep Jeff amused for the day, I’ll talk to your mother to make your excuses. The school has probably already called her when you didn’t show up.”

“What will you tell her?”

“Beats the shit outta me, she’ll hate my guts no matter what I say.” Course that’s when Jeff takes a whiz all over the front of my fatigue blouse. And that’s the moment Jesse comes in to say this parents would like a word, if I didn’t mind. Course not, what would go better with being soaked in puppy piss, on no sleep and oh crap, Ulysses just punched my bladder. Then the door bell chimed. “Speak of the devil and look who shows up, bet that’s your mother. Ben, go let her in. Set the kettle on and there’s peppermint tea and instant coffee in the cabinet to the right of the stove.”

My guess was right as Lisa stormed in and could hear a rush of angry Bavarianisms come rolling down the hallway. Ouch! When you hear your first, middle and even the confirmation names combined with 'you ought to be shot with shit'! Yeah you're in deep kimchee. And yes, she thought peppermint tea would be lovely. 

Ideally, the most rational way of dealing with important decisions that will effect you and the lives of those around you for the foreseeable future should not be made when you’re half dead to the world, covered in pee and marinating in pregnancy hormones. No, such a decision should be made after sleep, food and a few hours of weighing the pros and cons of such a venture. So with this in mind, of course I agreed immediately that Jesse should stay with me until the end of the school year and go to K-town High until his folks could get him into another school. 

What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alles Gutes zum Geburtstag: all the best for your birthday. 
> 
> https://www.internationaldessertsblog.com/german-bienenstich-bee-sting-cake/ 
> 
> FNG: Fuck’en New Guy
> 
> Bop City and The Central Bar were real places on Kennedyallee in Baumholder. As was the ‘color line’ that ran down the middle of it. Race relations had just started to improve some in the late 70’s from the riots and incidents from the late 60’s into the mid to late 70’s that occurred all over Germany, Japan and Korea.
> 
> Mr Roberts was a novel, broadway play and an Oscar winning movie about a Naval officer Mr Roberts (played by Henry Fonda in the movie) during the final months of World War 2 aboard the supply ship, The Reluctant. The tyrannical captain of the piece has a prized palm tree, which Roberts tosses over the side on VE Day.
> 
> Here is a picture of Rufus Turners truck: http://www.oldclassiccar.co.uk/tempo_matador.htm 
> 
> Martha Mitchell:was the wife of John N. Mitchell, United States Attorney General under President Richard Nixon. She became a controversial figure with her outspoken comments about the government at the time of the Watergate scandal. She was famous for her phone calls.
> 
> boo coo dinky dau: GI slang from the Vietnam War, you’re telling someone they’re very crazy.
> 
> Computed Axial Tomography: or CAT scan. Something that is taken for granted now, was a miracle of medical technology in the late 1970’s. 
> 
> School’s Out:  was first recorded in 1972 as the title track single of Alice Cooper's fifth album of the same name and written by the members of Alice Cooper's band. 
> 
> You’re My First, My Last, My Everything:  is a song recorded by Barry White from his third studio album Can't Get Enough (1974). The song was written by White, Tony Sepe and Peter Radcliffe and produced by White.-Wikipedia. Oh yes friends and neighbors, this is baby making music.
> 
> The Kent school was a British secondary school for British dependents of military personnel. It was also known as the Waldniel Hostert School, which prior to the Nazi take over was school and hospital for children with mental disabilities. However, it became a house of horrors where these children were experimented on, tortured, then murdered as part of the Nazi’s euthanasia program against the mentally and physically disabled. The school is now closed, abandoned and considered one of the most haunted places in Germany.
> 
> IRA: Irish Republican Army, terrorist organization in Northern Ireland
> 
> PLO: Palestine Liberation Organizaton: Middle Eastern terrorist organization


	7. Ein Himmelblauer Trabant  (The Sky Blue Trabant)

Warnings: period language and attitudes

 

“YOU, BEN AND JAMAL JEFFERIES SKIPPED SCHOOL TO DO THE WHAT!?” Their call had come in about 13:00 to the First Sergeants desk and he’d transferred it to mine in the Second Platoon office. Along with a hissing admonishment NOT to have this become a habit. 

“No Cas, not ‘The What’,” Jesse said reasonably. “The Who. They’re playing in concert this May and yesterday Radio Luxemburg said tickets would go on sale today.”

“AND YOU’RE IN PARIS!!!!!? LIKE IN FRANCE!?” No, Texas ya assbutt. Oh yeah, really intelligent sounding there Novac. Jesse must have left the apartment shortly after I did to meet Ben and Jamal at the train station.

“That’s where the show is going to be on May 12th.”

“BUT TODAY IS MARCH 12th!” I know Mondays inhale canal water vigorously but this is ridiculous.

“And that’s when the tickets went on sale, and billy-o there was a cue of people down the block and round the corner.”

Up until this minute Jesse Reynolds had been the model house guest. He did his home work, helped with Jeff, dried dishes and was a dutiful First. Well, looks like all that got blown ta shit. AND AFTER THIS LITTLE STUNT WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA BE ABLE TO GO?”

“My First,” Ben came on the phone. And here is the instigator of this whole mess. Thought by hanging around with his Elder Brother, Jesse would learn good alpha habits. Well looks like he’s picking up a few of the bad ones too. “We already spent the 60 Francs each to get the tickets and now we’re at the train station ready to come home. “Besides,” he turned the screws in hard....“we’re not doing anything more then what you’ve done yourself at our age. Jesse and I are being responsible Elder and Younger Brothers, as we’re calling and simply not leaving you to worry.” Left unsaid was: ‘like you did to your mother’. 

That’s dirty pool dude. “Wait, did Jamal call his parents yet?”

“Is he kidding?” Could hear his voice in the back ground. “My mother would beat the black outta me if she found out.” 

“JAMAL ELISHA JEFFERIES! YOU CALL YOUR PARENTS RIGHT NOW!” I’m so ticked at the lot of you! Could feel the headache that had started this morning in the back of my skull after the chat the idiots up in Bremerhaven, begin to march its way up and across my head like Sherman through Georgia. 

“Irv.”

“What was that?” That sounded a lot like Jeff.

“Nothing, just the guy in the next phone booth,” Ben said quickly. “Oh look, they’re calling our train, gotta go, bye.”

“BENJAMIN JAMES WINCHESTER...you better be telling the truth about being at the train station! Because if not, you guys are in a world of hurt! Oh, I’m calling your father and tell Jesse he is grounded for the rest of his natural life!” By this time of course I’m yelling at a dial tone.

Slammed the phone down, leaned forward in my chair, head in hands, taking deep breaths and trying to keep the headache down to a dull explosion. “You did this too,” tried to remind myself. “You ran away to Paris once....you stole a motorbike...you didn’t tell Naomi-Mom where you went until you got home.....BUT THAT WAS THEN AND THIS IS NOW! AND I’M RESPONSIBLE FOR ONE OF THOSE IDIOTS GODDAMN IT!” So help me Alpha God, will never tell another story of my insane puphood EVER AGAIN! Can remember what Naomi-Mom said after that little incident: “wait till you have pups of your own. I hope they’re just like you.” Now that was a curse if there ever was one.

Oh crap, the school probably called....but why didn’t I get the message? Because they only have the phone number for the apartment not the 85th so they left a message on the answering machine. I’m gonna murdlize those two!

My day, let’s just put it this way, had started out less then perfect and that phone call from the boys just put the cherry on top of an epic ‘shit sundae’. First thing during morning formation,’Granny Pants’ announced the Battalion Commander would be down for a walk through at 08:00 o’clock. “Brötchens and coffee will be in the ready room,” he glowered at the lot of us, from enlisted, to Noncom to officer. “We WILL have everything ready for his visit.” The ‘or else’ was left unstated but hung in the air like a cold wet German fog.

Gave my people enough time to toss some groceries and java down their necks before sending them off to police the area. Most of them lived in two to four man rooms, with bunks on the short walls and wooden lockers along the side wall without a window. When I come through to check their work, most done a good job in cleaning up the beer cans, ‘pogie bait’ and other unauthorized items, so that it was clean and the wurst farts were covered by a fuck-ton of Airwick. Of course there had to be one room that couldn’t get with the program.

Fort and Krew, shoulda known it. They were my ‘double digit midgets’ meaning they only had less then 100 days left in service. Opened Krews locker to find that he was using a ‘Cal State’ centerfold as a ‘short timers’ calender. With the letters FTA (Fuck the Army) written across my crotch as the day he gets to leave to go back to ‘the Land of Round Door Knobs’. It’s not that I haven’t seen myself up in a few of the guys lockers, it’s just a first time for this. “Take it down,” I said firmly. “The battalion commander is coming through in about an hour. I want all the nudie posters gone, any ‘Fuck The Army’ disappeared, the beer off the window sill and that dime bag of hash taped to the bottom of your locker flushed down the toilet.” 

“But Sir,” Krew began (bet he was surprised I knew about that bag of hash). “Third Platoon gets to keep their posters up during inspections.”

“And just because Third Platoons ‘mommie’ lets Third Platoon jump off the bridge (pick one, I don’t care)....DOSN’T MEAN I HAVE TO!” I hate Lt Grayson. Big Alpha fuck’en toe cheese Third Platoon leader. He lets his people get away with bloody murder and no ones sez boo. Me, I have ‘Granny Pants’ down my neck over every bit of picayune crap. “I’ll be back in five minutes. If that poster isn’t down, I’ll take it down with a Zippo.” Then turned and stalked out of the room.

“Stupid son of a bitchen slick. Bet ole ‘Lardass’ is just jealous,” over heard Fort say to Krew when they thought I was out of earshot. “Stone fox like Cal State, bet the Lieutenants mate had to get drunk as hell and tie a board to his ass so he wouldn’t fall in the night he....” The mating knife sliced through neatly between the letters ‘F’ and ‘T’ humming as it dung itself into the door of the wooden wall locker.

“You were saying.....?” I said sweetly, walking back in, bracing a knee against the door and yanking out the knife. Made an exaggerated pretense of studying the centerfold. “I suppose Cal State’s kinda cute, if you’re dating ‘Molly Palm and her five sisters’. Me, I’ve got a bull alpha for a mate, so I don’t have to worry about that kinda thing.” Then let an edge come into my voice, “take it down, get this hog hole cleaned up or I promise, by the Alpha God, you will go back to the states in chains!”

“YES SIR!” the both of em braced and squeaked in tandem. At eight months pregnant, I’m uncomfortable, irritable and just want this pup outta me. And fucken woe to those jack wagons who piss me off. But the posters, FTA lamps and other crap-ola was gone from Second Platoon by the time the battalion commander and his tick birds came through an hour later. He did his ‘how you doing solder’ schick that all brass with head up their ass do, saw what he wanted and then left. The truck with the all the unauthorized shit the company owned would be back by night fall.

So, that went well enough, returned to my office and figured it was good a time as any to see when my car was finally showing up, as people who’d come in after me had gotten notice that theirs were in. My chat with the numbnuts in Bremerhaven did not go well at all. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY CAR IS MISSING!?” 

“Lt Novac, I understand your concern but there’s no need to shout,” the voice on the other end was gallingly calm. “ You see, it accidentally was off loaded in Turkey,” then there was a pause. “Or we think it was Turkey, it could’ve been either Spain or Greece.” The terminal operations officer in charge of POV’s (Privately Owned Vehicles), at Military Traffic Management Command as I’d worked my way up through his staff to finally land on the desk of one Major Sidney Shelbourne. “We are now working on trying to locate your vehicle and bring it back.”

“My apologies Sir,” the pencil I was holding snapped in two. “But why isn’t anyone sure WHERE my car was off loaded?”

“We’re unsure of that,” Major Shelbourne said, could hear the rustle of papers on his desk. “But rest assured the full resources of the United States Army are being used to find your car.”

That’s it, I’m fucked. Will never see the Bug again. The poor baby is prolly in some back alley Istanbul ‘chop shot’ being torn to pieces. “When can I expect reimbursement for the loss of my vehicle?”

“I’m sorry Lt Novac, the Army can only issue payment when we get confirmation of said vehicles damage or destruction.”

“But you have to find it first!”

“And we are working on that,” he said cheerfully. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

You mean other than shoving your head up your ass to EAT SHIT AND DIE!? Nope, think that’s about it. Behaved myself just long enough to wish him a good morning then viciously kicked the waste basket across the room.

Well, it’s now about a 15 minutes after the phone call from Ben and Jesse, and one minute after a disastrous chat with the vice-principal of K-Town High. Jesse is going to be in detention for a week and he’s lucky to only get that. The waste basket that had sat beside my desk has now been squashed flat and there are scuffs in the paint where I’ve kicked it periodically against the wall during the course of the day. Sargeant Brown had wisely gotten up three seconds after the boys call had come in and my eyes had bugged out. He did like wise, bugged out that is.

As I’d had my back to the door, the sound of distressed metal had drown out the sound of knocking and the opening of said door. “Wow Clarence,” heard a sarcastic voice come from behind me as I’d stopped to take a breather. “Looks like you owe the army, three bucks for the destruction of government property. You know that’s what they make Valium or beer for.”

Turned and there stood a shortish female beta first lieutenant. She had a round face, a boyish bob hair cut, and if not horribly attractive, most guys wouldn’t kick her out of bed either. It also appears what she lacked in height, she more then made up in corrosive charm.

“And you are?” Meaning: ‘get lost’.

“Meg Masters, your sponsor. Think I wrote you a couple of letters about that.”

“Yes you did,” gave the trash can one more petulant stomp. “And it’s so nice to finally meet you, after how long?”

“Well better late then never. Hey Comrade Clarence, is it my fault that you showed up in the middle of REFORGER or that I got sent off to be liaison officer to the Danish Defense Force logistics team for all of last month? Besides it looks like you did rather well on your lonesome.”

“There’s a couple advantages to being an army brat,” I said irritably. “What’s with the ‘Clarence’, the name is Castiel.”

“What? You didn’t get the cultural reference? It’s a Wonderful Life? Clarence, the little tree topper who’s trying to get his wings by helping George Bailey? You’re named for an angel?” She took a pen from her pocket and pretending it’s a microphone.......“Heeeeeellooooo, (tap,tap, tap) is this thing on? Is there someone out there other then ‘the crickets’?”

“Ha, ha, ha, it is to laugh.” Carefully sat back down. “well thank you for stopping by but I’ve got work to do.” 

Meg walked over and sat on the edge of the desk. “Would it interest you to know that your commander gave you the rest of the afternoon off to finish your orientation and in-processing?”

“Wait a minute......Captain Austin said that? The guy with the potted palm on his desk and plastic slip covers on his chairs?” Those were new additions tht came after some privates brought motor pool grease with them to his office and ruined the upholstery on his visitors chairs. Lt Masters nodded. “Okay.” I wallowed my way back up out of the chair, grabbing my cap and coat. “Nothing here that can’t wait. Well, let’s go before he changes his mind.” Walked out and into the pale sun of an early Bavarian Spring day. 

Of course her vehicle is a Triumph TR-7. Oh yes, let us all have a good laugh watching the pregnant second lieutenant try to squeeze themselves into a British roller skate! Hardy har har.

I did get my USAREUR (United States Army Europe) license and plates earlier in the month so all I’m really missing is a car. We’d stopped at a beer garden a few blocks from the front gate for a pow wow and late lunch. I got the white wurst and cider, while Meg got a beer to go with her spätzle. “Know a place where you can pick up some wheels that are cheap enough to get you through until yours are found. Or you rotate out and back to the states. Which is more likely what’s gonna happen.” She took a sip of her beer, “those idiots up in Bremerhaven couldn’t find their ass with both hands.” Or, I call John.....no. Let’s just save the big guns for when my ass is really in a crack.

The car dealership, ‘Autohaus Eulas’, was in a six story warehouse like building, as being acreage is at a premium and expensive in Germany, a ‘car lot’ goes up instead around. Atypical of used car salesmen in the US, here in Germany there was no swermy smooth talking guys with the combined traits of a hyena and Richard Nixon. Nope, they would just listen as you explained what you wanted and then they’d bring you cars until you desided on a vehicle. Explained that I just wanted something inexpensive, that would get me from here to there, something temporary while waiting for my car come back. Dieter, was a middle aged beta fellow, who looked like he could’ve been on his way to mass, as he was dressed in what looked like his Sunday best. He tapped his lip with a forefinger, deep in thought. Then, he excused himself, picked a set of keys off the peg board and strode off into the ‘lot’.

As we waited, I eyed wistfully a jazzy looking bronze two door Opel Manta, man that thing looked like it was going a million miles an hour standing still. “Wonder what he.................HOLY MOTHER FUCKING SHIT! WHAT IS THAT?!” Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof, but this is fuck’en ridiculous.

The car Dieter had driven up was a midget of a boxy sky blue station wagan, that sounded like a bunch of little guys were under the hood beating tiny hammers on an aluminum pot and smoking the worst kind of Russian cigarettes. The thing looked oddly familiar but could’nt tell you why until...“It’s a Trabant,” Meg was laughing her ass off. “He got you exactly what you asked for. Cheap and temporary. Oh my Alpha God! You see more of them belly up along the side of the roads in East Germany then armadillos in Texas.”

Oh crud. Saw these things in East Germany back in high school when my 10th grade class took the train to Berlin on a field trip. Who does this guy think I am? Sonja Schmidt? Thought they were ugly looking then and now...holy crap. Where’s the wind up key? “How did it come into your hands?”

Dieter explained he’d got it from a Bulgarian fellow who’d apparently worked at the consulate, that is until he’d smuggled out his mother and mother in law in the secret compartment he’d built in the back bed of the station wagon and drove them out of the Eastern Block. He and his family requested asylum at the American embassy on the promise of heap big swap of secrets. Before he was air lifted out to Washington DC, the fellow ditched his Trabi for a Cadillac (the 50’s kind with big American tail fins) all on the governments dime.

I struggled to sit in the thing, Dieter had pushed the seat back as far as it would go, but with my belly, it was still a little close. Geeze those East Germans were short. Looked at the dashboard there was only a speedometer, no tachometer or thermostat, not even a radio. “Where’s the fuel gauge?”

“There isn’t one,” the salesman said impassively. “There’s a dip stick.”

“Where is that and where do you put in the gas?” Didn’t notice a gas cap on the side of the thing when he drove up. Dieter popped the hood and I came around to see him point to a cap on a small fuel tank in the engine compartment. He also pulled the dip stick from under one of the two struts on the back of the hood that kept it from crumpling. Meg, of course, is finding this the funniest thing she’d ever seen, as she is leaning against the Opel holding her sides, she’d gotten a stitch from laughing so hard.

The thing has a fuel shut off switch, a choke knob, four in the tree and you have to mix two stroke oil in the gas to make the car run. “How much?” Hope it’s not too expensive because Germans don’t haggle (Unlike Turkey, Panama or the US). It’s seen as unseemly and impolite. 

“Two Hundred American Dollars,”

I looked wistfully over at the Opel, “how much is the Manta?”

“Six Thousand American Dollars.”

Fuck a duck. Tapped on a side panel, it wobbled and made a non metalic sound. That’s when Dieter explained the car body was made of Duro-Plast, a cotton and resin heated up together to make a kind of fiberglass. Then put over a metal chassis. So it’s cheap plastic over badly made steel. Oh yes, let’s think of buying this little commie death trap. Might as well take it for a solo test drive, Dieter looked a little uncertain at first until..... “would you really think I’d steal THIS car?” He immediately handed over the keys. The little piece of crap worked about as good or bad as I as thought it would.

Good thing I was driving it in town because the speedometer only went up to 100 km (60 miles per hour) and some how think even that would be a stretch. Obviously, no Autobaun for me. It was loud, rattled and was an insult to German engineering. Dean is going to bust my chops for the rest of my natural life and John is gonna to wonder if I’d lost my goddamn mind. But also, it was the only thing I could afford.

Came back, filled out the paperwork and wrote out a check to ‘Autohaus Eulas’. Borrowed his phone to call the USAA insurance office in Frankfurt to let them know about the Bug and put the Trabi on the policy. Can’t even get a couple of bucks from insurance as I didn’t have comprehensive or collision. Any compensation will have to come from the Army. Oh crap. Looks like I’m gonna be bending over to take the ‘purple shaft with the barbed wire cluster’ on this one. Well, the one positive thing that came out of this (after the underwriters stopped laughing as this thing made a ‘Renault 5’ look like a Mercedes), my insurance is now at $300 bucks a year, being that you could sneeze at this thing and total it.

With papers signed, plates on the....okay will have to call it a car....ditched Lt Masters and headed over to the Harlem Bakery to pick up Jeff from the sitters. Had a sneaking suspicion all day that proven right the moment I walked in the shop. “Thought you were home sick today.” Betty Boop looked up from behind the counter. “Jesse called this morning and said you were under the weather so Jeff was staying home.......uh nix nien Frankenstein?”

“That’s a big 10-4.” And then told her Jesse and Ben had skipped school as well as town.

What did they cut school for?” She reached into the display case and handed me a cookie. “Here, you need the sugar.” 

“Paris,” I grated, taking a bite. Mmmm, apricot. “They went to get tickets for The Who.”

“Cool, or maybe not.” She said quickly. “What? My sister Tabby and I blew off school back in ‘68 when Dad was stationed in Berlin to get tickets to see Diana Ross and The Supremes.”

“How did your Dad take it when he found out?”

Betty made a face and rubbed her behind, “he whipped our asses but good. Then mom finished the job by taking the tickets away and tearing them up.”

“So you didn’t get to see the show then.”

“We sure did. Tabby snitched em back out of the garbage after they’d gone to bed. Spent a good hour Scotch taping them back together. Oh it was soooo worth getting grounded for a year.” Ouch, tried to think what Naomi-Mom did to Gabe and me when we got back from Paris. Oh yeah, remember now; we had to get jobs to earn back the money we stole....lifted.....borrowed....yes we borrowed from the guy whose wallet we took...borrowed....yes he lent it to us without his knowledge. And the motorbike we....STOLE OKAY?! Make a federal case out it why don’t you. We’d kind of dumped it in the Palais de Chaillot Fountain. She made us find the owner and pay for the damage. That was a rough two years bagging groceries in the commissary.

It was around 17:00 hours when I pulled into the parking lot of Bldg 1015. The gate guards had a good laugh, stupid sons of bitches, and asked it the Trabi’s mother knew it was out. I am going to make those mother fuckers lives a living hell! Got out and stood for ‘Retreat and To the Colors’. Then stomped up the stairs to Apt 3C. Nope, nobody home yet.

Purposely didn’t turn the lights on, cued up the answering machine and then waited in the kitchen. About a half hour after I got in, heard the key go into the lock and the door swing open. Then Ben saying proudly, “see. Told ya we’d make it home before Cas did. He never gets home much before 18:00.” Course that’s when I hit the ‘play’ button on the answering machine:

“Hello Lt Novac. This is Catherine Granger at the Kaiserslautern High School admin office. Jesse Reynolds wasn’t in Home Room today. We hope there is nothing wrong. Please give us a call at....”

“Uh oh.”

Flipped on the hall light, “you better shit in your mess kit, uh oh is right.” The three of them froze like deer in the head lights. Jeff was standing between Jesse and Ben wearing an adult sized t-shirt over his snow suit that proclaimed ‘The Pups are Alright’. Oh hell, not by a long shot! “In the kitchen NOW! We gotta have a few words and they ain’t MERRY FUCKEN CHRISTMAS!” The three of em trooped unhappily down the hall, Jesse set Jeff in his high chair and then took a seat next to Ben at the table. “Where’s Jamal?”

“He went home. Lucky bum, his dad had gone TDY to a conference in Berlin and his mom went too.” Ben looked like he’d wished that’s where I was right now. “Won’t be back until tomorrow.”.

“Yeah, lucky him until your mother calls his mother.” Oh yeah, his mom. He forgot about her. Lisa is going to skin him alive and nail his hide to the barn door. “Which reminds me, you’re gonna call her right now.”

Ben glanced at his watch, “all I’m gonna get is the answering machine. Officer Wives Club meeting today. Those last until 19:00......Emma is at the sitters, so don’t blow a gasket.”

Do not like his tone in the least. But let’s get down to some brass tacks. “Now I know why you blew off school to get tickets, that’s a no brainer. But would you care to explain why you took Jeff with you?”

“He’s cute, he stinks and there’s a pistol in the diaper bag.” Dean’s son said simply. Okay, wait. I held up a finger, wanna know if I heard that right.

“Say that again with an explanation to each, please.”

Ben looked at me like I was simple. “Jeff is cute. Chicks dig cute.” 

Course then it dawned on me. “You brought him along so you could get laid?” Oh dear Alpha God, this pup is worse then Gabe ever thought of being. My brother only quoted Karl Marx but Ben brought my darling boy along to meet chicks? The room was suddenly smelled like burning peach pie. “Did you learn absolutely nothing from what happened at the Dead Show*?!.....”

“Plus his nappies smell like the Thames at low tide,” Jesse piped up quickly. “People gave us their place in cue just to be up wind.” Huh, gotta remember that one the next time I gotta stand in a long line for something. No, gotta stay mad.

“And the last reason,” I said quietly. This was the one that scared/angered me the most.

“The pistol was because of what that dude tried to do to me after the Dead Show.” All the color had dropped from Ben’s face from the memory of the guy who tried to rape him. “I brought it along to protect my little brothers.” Then a deadly smile crept on his face. “Too bad about that Frog who thought we looked like easy pickens. Oh don’t look at me like that, he’s alive...I think.”

It was a good thing the door bell rang when it did because I was going to explode. These two exposed my son to danger, to people that could’ve killed or kidnapped them or worse! Just needed to walk away for a moment before I killed the lot of em! They are grounded until their next lives! You can kiss your nirvana goodbye fellas. Stomped down the hall way with the idea of just telling who ever was at the door (and it better NOT be the Jehovahs Witness’s because I will bathe them in their own blood) that NOW was not a good time and to come back tomorrow or never. Yeah, never was a great time. Flung open the door..... “Come back..................JOHN?!”

“Hiya Lambkin,” Major General (Promotable) John Winchester grinned like a Cheshire Cat, leaning up against the door jam with casual pose and looking better in that uniform then he has a right to. “Wow, you’re big......sexy thing you.” (Good save there assbutt) Shepherd then wrinkled his nose. “Damn, you gotta pie burning in the oven?”

And with that, everything came crashing down in one fell swoop. Leapt into his arms as my horrid day and tears everything came out in a rush.

“You bought a Trabant?”

“Is that the only thing you got out of this?” I howled miserably. About that time my three miscreants came into the hall way.”

“Hi Grandpa John”

“Hello General Winchester.”

“DADA!” Jeff toddled down the halllway and into in fathers legs. “DADA!” He looked up with those big green eyes and ‘dimples of death’. “Wuv oooooo!”

John let go of me, leaned over and swung his son into the air. “Jump up, hook up, shuffle to the door! Jesus Christ, you’re getting heavy.”

“Kith!” Jeff slobbered puppy kisses over his fathers face. “Dada.” 

This was all so sweet. My alpha was home, my son had his father...and of course it’s now up to me to drip in everyones Kool-aid, “John. You have to talk to the boys. They skipped school to get concert tickets in PARIS FRANCE and took Jeff with them because he would be cute and attract girls! For sex!”

His grandfather looked at him curiously. “Ben, let me get this straight. You took Jeff along so you could get laid?”

“Yes Sir.” Ben tried to look sorry and was failing miserably.

“Did it work?” My jaw dropped. This is NOT the question John should’ve been asking.

He grinned, “like a charm.”

“Drive on.....er.....you really shouldn’t have done that.” I have died and gone to HELL!

“And his nappies smelled so bad it got us to the front of the cue!” Jesse added hopefully.

“Bio-warfare, outstanding! Good thinking men.” 

“JOHN!”

“What? They were successfully using what materials they had on hand.”

“One of those ‘materials’ was your SON!”

“No plan is a bad plan if it works,” he reasoned.

“ALPHAS! I FUCK’EN HATE YOU ALL!” I turned, grabbed up Jeff and stomped down the hallway.

“DADA!” Jeff howled as he leaned over my shoulder and waved his arms as he was being taken away from his father and brothers. “Esse! Ben!” He reared back looked at me angerly.....“Bad Papa! Bad!” Oh, this is not happening. Blew scent in his face and carried the knocked out pup to his bedroom. Laid him down on his bed and then stomped to my room, slamming the door and throwing myself on the mattress. A few minutes later, there was a gentle tap on the timbers. “Go away. I’m still mad at the lot of you.”

“Come on Baby,” heard my Alphas voice come sweet as honey. “Haven’t seen you in months and have missed you.”

“You missed the fucking.” I shot back.

“Can’t say that isn’t true. But missed your sass, ass and that bad temper, the way you get all fluffled up and your face turns red.”

“Oh sure, lay some more of that sweet talk on me.” Did I remember to lock the door?

Nope, totally forgot. As it creaked open and John poked his head in slowly, guess he was expecting something to come flying his way. Or get shot, as ‘The Lovers Kiss’ was under the pillow. “Oh good, that big ole bed made it through even if the car didn’t.”

“You set the worst priorities,” tossed the covers over myself, as I still had my boots on, my feet hung over the side, didn’t wanna mess up the sheets. “What about the boys?”

“What about em? They were careful and brought protection. Rubbers, a pistol and a pup who shits toxic goo. Who could ask for more?”

“ME!” I tossed off the covers and sat up to find John sitting on the bed with my feet in his lap, where he was industriously unlacing the jump boots. Wanted to kick him out but smell of cotton flower and gun powder the scent of my Alpha was doing its job. Which I suppose he was counting on. “Shepherd, That’s our son, your grandson and Jesse, out there being stupid. Jenny and Lewiston have put their trust in me to take care of their son. After losing Eric” (no great loss really but...) “and then the dust up with Jesse running away from that school” (not that I could blame him) “don’t think their hearts can take any more.” 

“Oh, I think they’ll survive. If we don’t tell em for a while. Like until the next century.” He pulled off the boots and set them on the floor by the bed. The thick OD green socks came next. “Okay, wiggle those toes. Geeze your ankles have swollen up. You eating too much salt?” He poked at the puffy skin. “You’re retaining water like crazy.”

“Like you care,” I will not give in.

John looked hurt. “Lambkin, I do care. I love you. More then you can imagine.”

“Uh huh, right. Let me guess what you’re going to say next: ‘why do I make things so hard’?”

My Alpha didn’t say a word for a moment. Just kept looking at my ankles. “Heard about you unloading that truck all by yourself last month in Hof.” What? How did he...? “Read the report where you got lost in Czechoslovakia...” Oops, didn’t know it made it that far up the food chain. Then he smirked, “did you really start a riot by hitting a Gurkha in the face with a potato ball?” 

“Kinda sorta,” Maybe he does care to at least to find out what I’ve been up to. “Dr Singh, the ob-gyn over at Landstudl Hospital, has been after me to cut back on the salt, but it’s hard when all I’ve been craving lately are Chio Potato chips, dill pickles and mess hall shit on a shingle.”

“Hopefully not all together.”

I looked a little guilty, “but they taste great that way.” John shuttered as he reached over and worked the button and zipper open on the fatague pants.

“And here I thought Kate putting fish sauce in her grits was nasty.” He shook his head with the memory. “She poured that foul smelling shit on everything when she was pregnant with Adam.” Shepherd hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of my fatague pants, “lift up a sec,” and the pants were tugged down and joined the boots on the floor. Should be pissed that John brought up his legendary Montagnard mistress, but to hear she had a fault, made it almost okay. “I see you have your ‘Mega cover and Patty Pre-Sents up.” The framed cover and original cartoon of me and Patty Pre-Sents that Cole Trenton sent were hung on the wall over the bed. Figuring that any one I was close to knew already and anybody else was never going to see the interior of my bedroom. Would be a waste, not to put them up. “Always loved that shot.” So there, Kate. I have a magazine cover.

Didn’t take much longer to get down to the nursing shirt and panties. Now I just wanted to pull the sheet back up and hide. Was a mess of stretch marks, spider veins and the mostly faded scars from ROTC summer camp at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. 

“Ah, ah, ah. No Egyptian Darkness.” Could feel the mattress dip as he leaned over to flip the light back on. “I wanna see you scars, stretch marks and all.”

“But they’re ugly.” Turned the lights back off. Now at least have the illusion of being that young and smooth bodied (abet airbrushed) omega from the magazine.

“Do you find my scars ugly?” The light came back on. My alpha had stood up and stripped off his uniform jacket, laying it carefully on the back of the chair I’d picked up for a quarter at someones moving sale. He pulled off the tie and opened his shirt a button at a time. There pock marks and jagged cuts from bullets, barbed wire and bayonets. Some were covered with a bit of chest hair, while others were starkly white against the light skin. 

Reached a hand out to touch them reverently. “Course not, they’re part of what makes you the bravest man I’ve ever known.” Then coquettishly, “plus they’re sexy.” What can I say? Next to leather, big guns, fast cars and Erwin Rommel, “battle scars excite me.”

“Well, yours excite me. They’re sexy, alluring, they’re proof of life in the face of all odds.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on my swollen belly. Could feel Ulysses press a foot against Johns lips. “Just the sight of them make me wanna keep you with pup. Your body is full, rich, ripe and made for carrying a babe or an alpha most comfortably.”

Course this far in, pregnancy is NOT comfortable, but to hear those words coming out of my alphas mouth and the way he looked at me with wanting and need, almost made me believe it. Could see his pants tenting and I wanna go ‘camping’. “Let’s see what’s under that GP Large.” John stood, toed off his shoes, then came the socks and the pants came down and he stepped out of the trousers. They neatly joined the uniform jacket on the back of the chair.

Now I’m glad the bedside lamp is on. To see those sacks heavy with seed, a cock long and thick, dusty rose with a thick vein running its length and the great bulbus head. Slick was soaking the panties and sending the aroma of apples, cream and peaches into the air. He leaned over the bed and slid two fingers under the drenched cotton panel between my legs, then letting those digits sink into my pinks. This one little act shouldn’t have felt this good, but it did. More so when he rubbed them against the sensitive spot that sent jolts of erotic electricity through my body. “John, please.” 

“In a moment, Lambkin. An alpha needs to take his pleasures slowly, you need to be taken apart with skill, love and care. Any one can fuck,” his index and middle fingers slid out and he languidly licked off the juices. “But to be lovingly broken to your very core and allowed to be yourself in the dark of night, to be the omega that you deny in the light of day.” John looked at the drawer in the bedside table, “you do have mating cord, yes?” Couldn’t rip that drawer open fast enough to get it out.

“Had a lovely conversation with Jenny and Lewiston Reynolds yesterday. Had stopped by Beinfield and spent the night. She took both Lewiston and me on, wore us both out, woman is insatiable. But they told me all about the mating stand, riding crops and the omega you would become in the dark, where no one could see you, not even yourself.” He looped the cords around my wrists and ankles but tying them to nothing except my will. “This is to remind you who you belong to, who you will always belong to, even when you’re in bed with another.”

“Yes Alpha.” I breathed in his scent and was lost in it, “always and only you Shepherd.”

“Good,” and John tore the panties off, the fabric made a satisfying tearing sound. “Now my Lambkin, present.” My body automaticly obeyed, he didn’t use his alpha voice. He didn’t have to (not like it would’ve worked anyway). The need and want were too much.

Sway backed, belly eight months full, he drove in that hard fleshy length into my pinks and rocked to and fro. The big knot teasing in painful deliousness, as my body tried to make it catch but it kept pulling away. “Please,” I whimpered. “Bitte mein Shepherd!”

“Not yet,” and he suddenly pulled out, got up, whipped the blanket off the bed around himself and walked out the door. Hokey dokey, that was weird. Flopped on to my back. What the fuck just happened? Luckily, John was back a few minutes later, smoking a cigar, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water, what looked like a glass of something amber (bet that wasn’t apple juice) and a shit eating grin.

“Just checking on the boys progress. Sargeant Ellis and Captain Harvelle are here....”

“CAPTAIN HARVELLE IS HERE!?” I wanted to jump out of bed and do the dishes that had been left in the sink since this morning. That and pick up the basket of dirty clothes that were next to the washer that I hadn’t gotten a chance to do yet. That bitch was NOT going to report back to Mary about what a hog wallow this place was! “Why is SHE here?”

John sat down on the bed, balancing the tray on his knees. “She and Sgt Ellis are here to supervise the construction of the schrank...”

“What schrank?”

“The schrank you needed to put your good dishes and flatware in” He took a sip of the amber liquid and smacked his lips. “Mmmm, nothing like the taste of peat in a good Scotch. Here,” Shepherd poured a glass full of water and handed it to me. “You need to tank up if we’re gonna have a go at this. You felt a smidge dry.” I guzzled down the water and then rolled out of bed yanked the top sheet off to wrap around myself and was headed out the bedroom door.

Got out to the living room to find a bustle of activity and two groaning teenagers. “We had to carry all those boxes of dishes up three flights of stairs!” Jesse moaned. There were six full banana boxes of china against the wall as well as pieces of schrank all over the living room. “Couldn’t you just yell at us a little more then ground us for a week?” 

“Nope,” John came up behind me, giving my rear a playful swat. “You are going to have to put that thing together while we have embarrassingly loud sex.” He winked, “gonna show your Madam First, how the bears do it in the buckwheat.”

“Grandpa John, that’s disgusting!” 

The General raised an eyebrow. “Any more disgusting then banging some alpha chick in a Paris back alley with the neighbors leaning out the windows and cheering you on?” Ben didn’t have the good graces to look even the least little bit embarressed. 

“Well,” my First shrugged. “I’m a Winchester. When you’re that good....”

“You’re terrific! That’s my boy!” John gave him the thumbs up.

Oh dear Alpha God, I made the detour to Hell again. So pointedly ignoring Capt Harvelle, nodding a greeting to Sgt Ellis, checked out about this new addition to my living room. Which now made every other stick of furniture in there look cheap and shoddy. Which it was, but now that fact was brought out even more so. “John, where did you get this?” I ran a hand lovingly over the dark wood columns and hand carved scroll work. “It’s beautiful and an antique. It must have cost a fortune.” 

“Nah, Gerdie Schmuckle was just tired of lugging it around and his mate had been after him for ages to get her a new one. So, it only cost me the price of a rental truck to get it down here.”

“Gerdie....Schmuckle?”

“General Gerdie Schmuckle, second in command of NATO. Had a command in the 7th Panzers during the war.” My mate grinned as his nose twitched like an excited rabbit. “Damn, if I knew getting you a kraut generals schrank got you this hot and bothered would’ve asked for his dining room set too.”

Oh that did it. “Bed! Now!” The blanket and sheet flew off as we dashed back toward the bedroom.

“You guys scarred me for life!” Ben hollared after us.

“You’re lucky we aren’t gonna do it on the kitchen table,” I yelled back over my shoulder.

A few hours later, I had a beautiful schrank in the living room full of fine china and the smell of an upset alpha. Dean had come over to collect Ben and was pacing a wear mark in the carpet. “You bought a Trabant?” In the mean time, John had released Sgt Ellis and Capt Bit.....Harvelle to their own devices, so it was just the five of us.

Was seated on pillow at his fathers feet, still wrapped in the sheet, only now with the czars collar about my throat, “why is that the only take away anyone has from this whole INSANE DAY?” Ben had a few choice words on the subject too and the little bastard laughed way too hard. So I called his mother for her come over and take him home but I meet her at the front door wrapped in a sheet, smelling of sex. Really good......no.....Tony the Tiger sex. You know.....’ It’s GREAT!’ Course John was standing behind me, in nothing but that blanket looking like a Roman Senator after a party at the Caligulas.

Lisa had a few prize words of wisdom for the both of us, then slammed the door and stomped off. Turned to John, “was it something I said?” Dean was over shortly there after.

“Because it’s a Trabant!” Dean glowered. I suppose the car was the metaphor for Bens behavior, that his father is here and in full dominant display. Alphas, can’t live with em...CUZ THEY ONLY SHOW UP AT DINNER TIME! Or to have sex or to bring really gorgeous schranks owned by former panzer commanders....I gotta stop now. But John was in full alpha mode, quietly showing who was boss to Dean, Ben and to some extent, Jesse. Omega at his feet, collar about my neck, plug in my pinks, smelling of sex. (Really great sex) Why did I go along with this? You want me back Dean Winchester? Work harder. There have been no dates set since we talked about it.....okay. To be fair, neither of us have had a lot of spare time, BUT, neither did he talk about making plans for time together either.

“I got that car because it was the only thing I could afford. Don’t wanna touch the money in the stateside bank because that’s for our pup’s education. Even with the funds you, John and the Reynolds are giving (Lewiston and Jenny are sending $40 dollars a month to help with the grocery bill and other nessecities for Jesse) it’s still kind of tight. So I’ll bite the bullet and drive it until the Army finds the Bug.”

“You want me to look into it?” my alphas said in unison.

As much as I wanted to say yes, “no. Let things play out naturally. Want my big guns in reserve for that occasion when the defecation hits the rotary oscillator.” And knowing me, yeah that will happen sooner rather then later. About that moment, my stomach let out a growl and a kick from ‘the bat in the cave’. It was around 20:30 and Ulysses was beginning to make his displeasure known. He was not thrilled with these lapses in my dinner time judgment. Could almost hear the ( and cue the Brooklyn accent) “Hey, we’re a buncha ‘Starvin Marvins’ in heera!”

“Um Guys?” Took hold of the sofa and the coffee table/foot rest and hefted myself up. “Mind if we table this discussion until after dinner? Think I have enough on hand to make up a batch of red beans and yellow rice......what you don’t like it?” From the looks on their faces, don’t think they do. Course that’s when Jeff must have woken up as he starts raising a ruckus from his room.

“Does ‘One Eyed Wolfie’ still deliver pizza on post?” John asked. 

“Sure does,” Dean replied. “You’d think he lived here the way the gate guards just wave him and that old Mercedes delivery van of his through.” Had seen it and the ancient beta dude with an eye patch around the housing area and company streets almost every day carrying boxes of steaming hot pizza.

“Christ, that guy has been around forever and amen.” my Alpha with a big ‘A’ snorted a laugh. “He was probably delivering canned tuna pizza to Charlemagne.” I shuttered and tried to keep the gag reflex from getting the better of me. Sure, I can deep throat dick till the cows come but mention canned tuna and pizza in the same breath.....oh crap. Made a dash and got as far as the kitchen sink and threw up all the water I’d drunk till I was dry heaving. 

Had both Dean and John at either side one with a hand to my forehead the other rubbing my back. “It’s okay Cas, it’ll be alright Lambkin,” That’s when John took command, “Dean why don’t you get Ben, Jesse and Jeff over to your place for tonight. Jeff isn’t sick so one evening won’t kill Lisa.” He grinned, “besides. She’ll be too busy yelling at Ben.”

“Wait!” The young alpha came into the kitchen. “That’s not fair. Madam First, tell him that’s not fair.”

I turned and wiped a line of drool from my chin. “My First, you don’t see any ferris wheels or merry go rounds around here do you?” After the day I’ve had, he should be happy I’m throwing him to his mother, not the wolves. Oh, wait, same thing.

“No,” Ben said with a sigh, because he knew what was coming.

“Life ain’t a fair nor is it a ‘cabaret old chum’.”

John fished around in his pocket and handed Dean 10 Marks in coins. “That should take care of a couple of pizzas from the Wolfie mit dem einen Auge (Wolfie with the one eye).”

“What are you and Cas going to do?” Dean quickly pocketed the money.

“He and I are going over to the officers club on Ramstien.”

“Wait! But I have nothing to wear!” Oh geeze, can that come out any worse or typically omega? “uh, I mean nothing fits right now.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” John squeezed my hip. “Your birthday suit always fits nice.”

“You are not going to parade him around naked!” Dean protested indignently. 

“As his alpha....,” John began.

“Guys, I’m standing right here.” Was of half a mind at this point to toss em both out but I’m hungry and dinner at the O’Club was too good to pass up. “John, you get dressed. Dean, go take care of Jeff.” Then turned to Ben and Jesse who were hovering in the back ground. “There’s a box of cotton balls in the junk drawer to the right of the sink. Suggest you might wanna stick some in your ears now because you know what Lisa is like once she gets a head of steam on. Now.....Bewegung, raus! (Get going, out!)”

My closet was divided into the uniform half and the civilian half. Or if truth be known, the uniform 95 percent and the civilian tiny bit. Oh man, all those nice clothes. The Botany 500 pants will fit but don’t have an oxford shirt big enough to go with it. The kilt and jacket I wore on our honeymoon are too small.......but the midnight blue velvet cape isn’t. Pulled that out of the garment bag where I’d put those special clothes and took the cape off the hanger. Shook it out and then whipped it around with a flair to let it settle about my shoulders. 

John had gotten his uniform pants and blouse on but had left the buttons open at the throat. Wow he looked sexy standing there in his bare feet, shirt sleeves rolled up over those strong wrists and forearms. Instead of the ‘Barefoot Contessa’, I had the ‘Barefoot General’. Slipped the hood up and glided across the room over to this lovely man. Modestly bowing my head, “do we have to go out my General? Couldn’t we order from the club and stay here?”

“No my little Lambkin.” He lifted my chin and touched his lips whisper soft to mine. “You need to eat something that isn’t Wolfies pizza or red beans and rice. Besides,” mein engel (my angel) I want you all to myself tonight. But....” John smiled. “Not before I get to show you off first. Let everyone see how incredible you are. Especially now that you smell of sex, sweet peaches and me.”

Oh no, I really shouldn’t be doing this, not if I wanted to stay low key around here. But soaked in pregnancy hormones, drunk on his scent and the ‘night time omega’ screaming to come out and play... “If you want to show me off the best,” unwound the sheet from my body. Took the ankle bracelets out from the lock box in the closet and snapped them into place. Then found the sandals I will probobly never wear again in Germany unless I’m going on a vacation somewhere a long the Mediterranean. Took off my glasses, (hey, if Superman can do it, so can I) will have to squint at the menu though. Then put a dab of ‘My Sin’ behind each knee. “Ready.”

“Help me dress?” Do love doing for my man. Rolled the sleeves down, touching the smooth skin of his wrists and bringing his hand up to kiss each scarred knuckle. Straightened the cuffs and buttoning them securely. Then leaned in to his chest to plant a kiss at his throat and scent his neck. He’s mine as much as I’m his. Buttoned him in to the shirt as Alpha took the tie whipped around the raised shirt collar and swiftly tied it in place.

“Lay back on the bed,” I pushed him on the mattress where he bounced, then pulled a over pillow to go under his head. Alpha God, who would have thought bare feet could be this sexy? Especially his; they were callused, toes pushed together, hammered and beaten from too many years in boots that were wet, tight or mildewed. The hair on his legs stopped where the OD socks began, again too many years of confinement in boots with scratchy wool socks scraped those hairs clean from his skin. Lifted each foot and laid little flutter kisses along those trim ankles before tugging on the black dress socks. Course ran a critical eye over his shoes, am not gonna have my man looking like he polished em with a Hershey Bar. Got up and went down the hallway to the hat/coat/umbrella stand next to the front door.

Dean and the boys had already left so it was just John and me in this big empty apartment. There was a quick pang at my heart, like sending Jeff and Jesse off for the evening was wrong. My pups should be here. But then again, how are we going to have a night of mind blowing sex with a pup screaming in the next room to have his nuclear sludge diaper changed? Okay, I’m better now. Stopped at the entrance to the living room to admire the schrank before picking up the nylon stocking that I kept in the stand to put a quick polish on the toes of my boots before leaving for the day. 

Got back and found John had picked up the novel on the bedside table and was thumbing through a few pages. “Doctor Sexy, MD?” He asked with a smirk. (Okay sue me, I picked up a copy in the PX)  
“What a trash wallow, the goober with the cowboy boots, then that guy Denny Douquette, what a hoser.” He flipped to the page and then read dramaticly: “Turns out, that sometimes you have to do the wrong thing. Sometimes you have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. Mistakes are painful but they're the only way to find out who you really are.” He tossed the book back on the night stand, “Jesus Christ, you didn’t pay good money for that horse shit, did you?”

“Of course not,” said with a completely straight face. “I stole it.” 

His eye brows went up and mouth hung open.....“YOUWHAT?!”

“Assbutt. Had to bust on ya a little.” But couldn’t blame John’s reaction, knowing my checkered history and light fingers. “Honest, I didn’t steal it. Not that I wasn’t tempted but paid good long green for it.”

“Whewwww! Scare me there for a minute”

“Sorry, Babe, yeah I know it’s a total rip off of Doctor De Amor MD, but Jeff got hooked on it back in New Jersey” (okay, so did I....just a little...not much....I plead the Fifth) “so had to get a copy.”

“You can’t read the pup ‘Go Dog Go’ or ‘Pat the Bunny’?

Made a rude noise through my nose. “Not after he’s had ‘Last of the Mohicans’, ‘Kidnapped’ or ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ read to him since he was 4 months old.” I did finally make a mixed tape of the waterfall chapter from ‘Mohicans’, the first chapter from ‘Loathing’ and ‘The Flight Across the Heather’ from ‘Kidnapped’. Hadn’t gotten around to adding ‘Dr Sexy’, that was reserved for those nights when the pup was too fussy for even....BATS!

“That be some didi didi mau mau dinky dau shit GI.” 

“You better believe it.” Put his shoes on my lap, took one and spat on the toe, then did the same to the other. Took the stocking and buffed it quickly across one toe and then the other. Those suckers shone like mirrors. “Nothing like a little spit and nylon,” I admired my handy work. “To bring out a shine.”

“I think I’ll keep you around,” John sat up took the now polished shoes and slid them on. Picked his uniform jacket off the back of the chair, admiring the ribbons, jump wings, foreign decorations and CIB with two stars. Held it up so he could put his arms through, then buttoned him in. My man is strack, poster handsome and ready to command. “Shall we go Omega Winchester?”

“Yes, I think we shall Herr General Winchester.”

Harvelle and Ellis had taken the van back to the guest quarters, so that left the Puegot or... “we could take my car,” I said with a sweet smile.

“When Hell freezes over,” John declaired. 

“Hell, Michigan and the one in Norway freeze over every year.”

“In a word mein schatzi, fuck no.”

“That’s two words, ya spoil sport.” Which really was fine by me. The Peugeot, with it’s water cooled engine, warmed up a whole lot faster then the air cooled Trabi, plus it was bullet proof. And there was a Thompsons submachine gun under the dash! When I grow up, I want a car like this.

The gate guards at the Ramstien Air Force Base just about knocked themselves out slamming their hands up into a salute once they saw the stars on thars and scrambled eggs on the hat. “Good evening gentlemen,” John said amicably returning their salutes and handing over our ID cards. Tonight, I’m Omega Winchester and my ID is orange of a dependent instead of the green of Lt Novac. “Could you be so kind as to point us towards the officers club?” 

They not only pointed the way, we got an escort. One of the gate guards took the jeep parked next to the guard shack and led us in. John sighed. “This is nice, but I remember a time where it was me turning myself inside out for the brass. Eating red beans and rice at the end of the month and biting my tongue when hearing a load of stupid coming out of my commanders mouth.” He took a puff of his cigar and let the smoke curl out from between his lips. “Never forget this time of your life and career, because there will a day, if you stay in, where these memories will make you a better commander instead of a fool.”

“Yes Alpha.” Having seen Zachariah mis-use his authority for years and had swore I’d never be like him, will be doublely sure to take John’s word to heart.

The officers club was one of those boxy brick and glass ‘modern’ things built during the 50’s. Zoomies, they get all the new stuff and the army makes do with the left overs from the Year One. We bid farewell to our escort but not until he was properly back slapped, name written down, handed a cigar and kissed on the cheeck....by me....not John. Not that I wouldn’t have paid good money to have seen that.

The club was nice, all dark paneling, pictures of jets and the wild blue yonder. One way led to the dining room the way to the bar where you could hear the low hum of conversaton and click of ice on the side of glass. My mate gave it a quick glance, any other time he would’ve walked in to glad hand the boys and party hardy till closing. Sorry fellas, he’s mine tonight. Got a schrank to celebrate.

The maitra d showed us a corner table near a window. As it was after 21:00 there were not too many people in the dining room which was just fine. We got enough stares as it was. Even though Ramstein is the home to headquarters US Air Forces in Europe and brass probobly float in and out of here all the time, they more then likely didn’t get many two star army generals and their very pregnant omega mates come through. I followed behind John sedately, hood up, chin down, the very picture of a docile omega. Oh had they only seen me this morning jacking up Krew and Fort like a DI from Fort Dix, they woulda changed their minds toot sweet. Speaking of jacking up, ah there you are. ‘Snubby’ is in the breast pocket of the cape, John had sneaked it out of the diaper bag earlier before the boys left for the evening.

We were seated and handed menus. “What tickles your fancy tonight Lambkin? Besides me, that is.”

“Assbutt,” I hissed lovingly. Pulled the hood back off my forehead just enough so I could see but not enough to show off the high and tight, something sweet little omegas never wear. Unbuckled the silver clasp to allow my throat and collar to be seen. Studied the menu for a moment before asking, “what are ‘angels on horseback’?

“Oysters wrapped in bacon and then grilled.” He grinned, “think I might be needing a few of them for later.”

“Dirty old man,” slipped a foot out the sandal, reached over and proceeded to play footsie with his ankle.

“Sez the guy who’s working his way up my leg and could probobly be counting the change in my pocket shortly.”

“Pardon me........General Winchester?” Our waiter had just come up (oh thank the Alpha God for the long table cloth) to take our order. He looked oddly familiar and then it hit. 

“Henry? Henry Katz from Fort Riley?”

He looked surprised yet grateful we remembered. “Hello Sir, Omega Winchester. Nice to see you both.” Henry explained that he wanted to some day manage an officers club and figured by working his way up at various Officer and NCO clubs was the best way to do it. An opening here in Ramstein had been posted in the ‘Stars and Strips’ for “an assistant maitra d here Monday through Thursday then Friday through Saturday “am over at the NCO club learning to run the bar room”. Which is where the money is (at the bar) and the most chance for mismanagement. Henry found a place to live just off post and is learning the joys and frustrations of ex-pat living in West Germany. “So what do you have a taste for tonight Sir?”

‘Other then me’? Course didn’t say that out loud. Looked over to John, he nodded grandly. "what ever you want Lambkin, I trust your judgement to order for the both of us."

Okay, no pressure. “Let me see...” Seelachs on Toast....seelachs, seelachs...oh salmon. Uh no. Shrimp a la Dino....nah.....“oh, the Chateau Briand for two with Bernaise looks delicious. Would it be possible to get it cooked rare and is the bernaise made fresh?”

Ah the wonders of finishing school. I can speak 'la do da' with the best of em.

“Good choice,” Henry commented. “It can be done rare and the bernaise is composed right before serving. The meal comes with mashed potatoes and mushroom caps with a kidney bean puree. Would you like an appetizer?” I requested a tossed salad with Roquefort dressing and John took the soup of the day....beer and cheese. “Might I recommend a left bank Bordeaux to go with the meal?”

“I think you might,” John smiled. “It would be perfect.” Course he’ll be drinking it all by himself, damn it. At best, could get a sip, maybe. But in the mean time, yuck, it’s ginger ale. Henry snapped the order pad closed and said he would return with our drinks.

“Well, here we are.” I’m mated to the man for over a year and 9 months but it still seems I know so little about him. Other then how he takes his coffee, likes his steak, had an alpha male lover who was murdered, that he has a bastard son named Adam from Kate......on the other hand....maybe I do know a little bit about him. “So, how was your REFORGER?”

“A cluster fuck for the most part,” he replied. About that time Henry came back with the wine and my ginger ale. He poured a little in the glass for a sample and when John found it acceptable, he filled the rest of the goblet and left the bottle. “To Love and Unity,” John intoned raising his glass.

“Dark corners and opportunity,” I finished impishly looking over the rim of my glass

“You remembered.” The toast he gave that night when I first met him at the officers club at Fort Bragg.

“How could I forget? You were that handsome rogue of a bull alpha so worried about a poor little lost lamb such as I.” Leaned forward, “now what would you have done if I’d stayed instead of going back down stairs?” Oh ‘Spurs’ the vibrator and I had a few go arounds with this senerio but now wanna hear it from the ‘horses mouth’, so to speak.

John sat back in chair, took a cigar out of his breast pocket, unwrapping it slowly. “Hmmm, as a shepherd caring for a poor little lamb who had lost their way, would have to make sure they were brought to place of safety.”

“Baa, baa baa,” I set my elbows on the table, knitted my fingers and then set my chin on them. “Do tell.”

Taking out a pocket knife that looked like it’d been through the wars, he nipped off the end of the cigar. “As there are wicked creatures out there who’d take advantage of a tender morsel like yourself.” The Zippo snapped to life and flame touched Cuban leaf. 

“Speaking as the wickedest creature of them all,” I snickered. Oooo, he does have change in his pocket. Wonder if I can flip out a quarter or two.

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back. “But I would get thee to a place of safety, then make sure there was no harm done to your arms, legs or belly. One must do a complete inspection.”

“But of course.” Hmmm, this one feels like a D-mark. Now if I can just get it between my toes...

“Then one must........General Pauly.”

“Wait, what?” I had my back to the rest of the dining room so missed the part where people were popping to their feet. John pushed back his chair from the table and rose in a smooth flowing motion that looked unhurried, yet respectful. Turned to see a four star Air Force general standing at my elbow. Oh crap! Struggled to get the chair back far enough to keep my belly from bumping the table.

“At ease Omega Winchester,” the four star said gently, patting the air. “No need to stand. Not in your condition.” Then he turned to my mate, “Good evening John. A little bird told me you were here tonight. Just wanted to drop by say hello and send ‘Bobbi’s’ regards to your mate.”

I am so lost at this point. Who is this guy?

“Thank you Sir. Castiel, this is General John Pauly. Head of the Air Forces here in Europe.” Now I’m really struggling to get to my feet. FUCCCCCCKKKKKKK! Course that’s when Ulysses gives me a good one in the ribs and fell back into the chair.... “Urk.......hello Sir.” I squeek.....oh skip the manly shit tonight, THAT HURT!

“All our five pups kicked like they were George Blanda on a good Sunday afternoon in Oakland.” The General pulled up a chair and sat down. “My mate Bobbie had bruises up and down and places you’d think a pup couldn’t reach but did. John Jr was the worst at that.” Then he turned to my mate, “mind if I borrow you for a moment? It won’t take long, don’t want your supper getting cold.” Oh fuck a duck, not a repeat of what happened in DC at the Army-Navy Club.**

If John was upset or worried, he didn’t show it. “Of course Sir.” He turned to me, “will be right back Lambkin.”

General Pauly had the good graces to say, “my apologies Omega Winchester for the intrusion.” I simply nodded my head, it was part and parcel with the job and my job as mate. John got up and the two men walked off to some secluded spot to talk. Great, what do I do now? Well, that question answered itself almost immediately. 

“Hello there,” the voice was smooth, suave and way too sure of itself. Hmmm, could smell male alpha, av-gas, passable scotch and bratwurst. Oh great, something crawled in from the bar. “Are you alone? Hope you weren’t hurt when you fell from heaven.” Am I in the mood for this? No. Am I hormoning? Yes. Tipped my head and gave him a side glance. Flight suit...so he’s a jet jockey, not bad on the eyes but with that glint in his eyes tells me he think he’s the Alpha God’s ‘gift’ to women or omegas. Probably has scored enough tail with that line to keep using it. “Seeing it’s Monday you gotta be the Angel Gabriel.”

What? Oh shit no, not Gabes’s favorite pick up line.

“You came to blow my horn and make the earth move?” My brother pulled that one on Kali when they first met before inviting her out for burgers and brew. It’s a wonder that woman EVER considered him as anything other but an insufferable pest.

Pulled Snubby out of the cape pocket and shoved the business end into the guys crotch. “Not here alone, named for the angel of Thursday, I’m pretty pissed off right now, don’t WANT company, I don’t want your teeny weenie wiener whistle and get the fuck gone because I WILL shoot.”

“Okay, good talking to you. Bye.” For coming out with a dumb pick up line, he was smart enough to think with his feet. 

John was back shortly there after. “By the way, to quote General Pauly: ‘you got moxie’.

Oops. “You saw?”

“Hell yeah, the whole joint did. Considering that feckless moron was loud enough anouncing his intentions.”

“Oh really.” Now I’m interested.

“Apparently the guy bet his buddies that he could charm his way into your good graces and pants in 15 minutes. I waited till after he’s paid off his bets to let him know you were MY omega and if he EVER thought of coming near you again, I’d rip his lungs out through his nose and tie em round his neck like a bow-tie. And what ever was left after that.....” Major General (promotable) John Micheal Winchester grinned evilly. “You could shoot.”

“Then what happened?”

“He ran outta here like Lee Marvin trying to dodge his ex for palimony.”

“Drive on!” That is when Henry Katz showed up with the first course.

Dinner was really good, the sex afterward was even better and all things considered, this Monday didn’t suck balls quite so bad after all. Even though I knew I’d never hear the end about buying a Trabant.

 

"Yeah, kinda went wild with the end notes again:

 

In March of 1979, the exchange rate was one US dollar to 4.28 French Francs. The most expensive ticket for any Who concert that year was $14.00. The internet is a wondrous thing.

Pogie-bait: non issue food or drink items. Usually chips, candy bars or sodas.

Meg Masters car:  
https://classics.autotrader.com/classic-cars/1976/triumph/tr7/101147018 

Sonja Schmidt: was an East German pop star of the 1970’s. Her best known hit was the song, Ein Himmelblauer Trabant or The Sky Blue Trabant’ from 1971. A tale of a girl caught in the rain and for a kiss or two was given a ride home by a man in a sky blue Trabant. You can find the song on You Tube and the translation on Google.

Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof: This is a very common expression in German that means “life isn’t a place for riding ponies.” It means that you shouldn’t expect things to go easily for you.  -Fluent U  
This is the car Cas was lusting over: https://en.wheelsage.org/opel/manta/b/b1/1979-82/pictures/qhh0zb/  


And this is what he got: https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/trabi.html  


Production of the Trabant car began in 1957 in the state-owned Zwickau Sachsenring works in the German Democratic Republic (GDR). The Trabant had a plastic chassis (owing to a shortage of metal in the GDR) with two doors and four seats and a two-stroke, two-cylinder engine with a five-hundred centimeter capacity and seventeen horsepower. The remodeled version produced from 1964 on, the P 601, had an engine with a six-hundred centimeter capacity delivering twenty-six horsepower; it remained unchanged until 1989 and almost three million were produced, 20 percent of which were station wagons.  -from Encyclopedia.com

Now, if you are thinking that $6000 dollars is cheap for a new car, it is....now. According to the inflation calculator $6000 is about $21,164 in todays dollars. Where as the $200 is around $705, which is still a lot of money, especially when you are only getting around $600 or $700 a month after taxes.

The Renault 5 is a four passenger, three or five-door, front-engine, front wheel drive hatchback supermini  manufactured and marketed by the French car maker Renault.  The R5 was marketed in the US as Le Car, from 1976 to 1983. It was built to compete in the same market as the Honda Civic or VW Rabbit. 

*Cadet Novac Chapter 63 Ben and Me

Chio Potato chips: a brand of potato chip sold in Germany

Cas’s new to him schrank:  
http://ancientpoint.com/inf/108121-antique__hand_carved_buffet__1800__s_early_1900__s__germany__solid_oak.html 

Yes, the favorite pizza topping in Germany is canned tuna. 

The Barefoot Contessa is a movie from 1954 written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz about the life and loves of a fictional Spanish sex symbol. It stars Humphrey Bogart, Ava Gardner, and Edmond O'Brien. It’s a story about a woman who loved well, but not wisely and obviously no relation to the cooking show by the same name on the Food Network.

Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. Denny Douquette was Jeffery Dean Morgans character from ‘Greys Anatomy’ which of course ‘Supernatural’ busted on by creating ‘Dr Sexy’. The quote was from one of the ‘Greys Anatomy episodes. 

“That be some didi didi mau mau dinky dau shit GI.” GI slang from the Vietnam War days. What John is saying that it’s some fast crazy stuff.

I have a menu from the Ramstein Officers Club where these were actual choices offered.

Angels on Horse Back:  
https://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/angels_on_horseback/ 

Shrimp Ala Dino:  
https://www.cooks.com/recipe/6c3971qk/shrimp-ala-dino.html

Chateau Briand:  
https://www.thespruceeats.com/chateaubriand-recipe-1375530 

Bernaise Sauce:  
https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/b-arnaise-sauce 

John William Pauly (March 12, 1923 – August 7, 2013) was a general in the Allied Air Forces Central Europe, and commander in chief, United States Air Forces in Europe, with headquarters at Ramstein Air Base, Germany at the time of this story. Not bad for a guy from Albany, NY who grew up in his familys speak easy. He and his first wife Mary Frances ‘Bobbie’ Chatt Pauly had five children together.

 George Blanda (September 17, 1927 – September 27, 2010) was an American football quarterback and placekicker who played professionally in the American Football League (AFL) and National Football League (NFL). Blanda played 26 seasons of professional football, the most in the sport's history, and had scored more points than anyone in history at the time of his retirement. Blanda retired from pro football in 1976 as the oldest player to ever play at the age of 48.-Wikipedia   
Chicago 1949, ‘50-58; Baltimore Colts 1950; Houston Oilers 1960-66; Oakland 1967-75

**Lieutenant Novac-Fort Benning and Fort Lee, Chapter 9: By Guess and by Golly or HOGC What the Heck Just Happened to Me?

Palimony is the division of financial assets and real property on the termination of a personal live-in relationship wherein the parties are not legally married. The term "palimony" is not a legal or historical term, but rather a colloquial portmanteau of the words pal and alimony coined by celebrity divorce attorney Marvin Mitchelson in 1977 when his client Michelle Triola Marvin filed an unsuccessful suit against the actor Lee Marvin. While the suit was unsuccessful in this instance, the courts found that "in the absence of an express agreement, courts may look to a variety of other remedies to divide property equitably -Wikipedia


	8. The Luck of the Irish

Welcome back to St Patrick's Day 1979. Thank you all again for making this trip possible and for some of you, joining the journey. Warnings are the usual, period language, opinions, name calling and slurs.

 

Excelsior-Eights and Aces  
Sarah Otterford  
NCO Club  
Caserma Ederle  
Vicenza Italy  
17 March 1979  
23:40 Central European Time

 

When Saint Patrick’s Day is on a Saturday, you just KNOW the party is gonna be keep on keep’en on the whole day and into the wee hours of the night. The NCO Club here at ole ‘Camp G-Man’ opened its doors at 09:00 AM for green eggs and ham breakfast buffet (why no I don’t mind Sam I Am) complete with green beer. Sure it was just green food coloring in piss beer....but it was all you could eat or drink from nine to noon for five bucks. Hope the bushes and grass along side the building survive, there was one hellva a long line to the mens room.

It’s now 23:40 and joint was jump’in.

“I LOVE SAINT PATRICK’S DAY!” Could hear Alice yell from somewhere on the crowded dance floor. The live band was doing a bang up version of ‘Rocky Road to Dublin’ and Alice was out there shaking a tail feather with Dave Waxman. Dave may have been an idiot but he could be a fun idiot sometimes and credit where credit was due. The dude could pack a mean chute. 

We had gone out to the NCO Club not only to celebrate Saint Patrick (Happy Death Day tooooo youuuuu!) but to raise a glass or two or three or four to Echhhhh, Eccccch....oh I’m too drunk, to Ice’s and my promotions to E-5. Me, little ole Sarah Otterford from Amsterdam, New York. No pounding a typewriter at Mohawk Carpets or making blow up vinyl kiddie pools for Coleco for me.

Nope, I get to pack parachutes for the ‘ginger bread men’ in Italy. All the way, Geronimo! 

My arms were still bruised and sore from where the stripes were pinned and tagged this morning but who cares?! I’m a sergeant, with my own squad and a red baseball with riggers wings.......AND SARGENTS STRIPES!

Speaking of Ice.....she excused herself for ‘a moment’ about two hours a half ago. Wonder where she got off to? Last we saw, she was headed toward the bar with the Sargeant Major. As custom we had to buy him the first round and Top would take care of the rest. So, I’m here nursing a beer I had to buy myself, fending off letches....unless they’re cute letches and will buy me a shot of Jamesons......no takers? Bunch a cheap fucken charlies. Also just waiting for.....something. Which is weird, considering I just got promoted, got a squad, have a chance to go to the 7th Army NCO Academy up in Bad Toelz. What could I be waiting for? Maybe just another drink.

That’s when Ice suddenly showed up at the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Why? We just got here a little”.....checked my watch....oops, six hours ago. The party is just started to get good.” Actually the party had been pretty roaring right along since the three of us got there. 

“If it’s so good, why are you just sitting here by yourself, telling any guy who comes over to basicly fuck off?” Opened my mouth to say she wrong even if Ice was right. But it didn’t matter, “because I gotta tell you and Alice something and don’t wanna a lot of ears hearing.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Come on.”

“Okay, okay, don’t lose your girdle Myrtle.” We collect Alice off the dance floor, Dave is so wasted that he doesn’t notice and just keeps on dancing with himself. We head out the door and start walking back to the company area. “When Irish eyes are smiling......” Alice sang...“it is like....like....something something....whiskey and beerrrrrrrr!”

There was a cool breeze coming in from the river bringing with it the smell of life, death and..damn...tannery. Smells like Gloversville. Okay, let’s get this over with. Course we were all walking along in step, left -right-left. “Ice what is so earth shattering that we had to leave? Top was suppose to buy us drinks all night. Which reminds me, what happened to the big cheapskate?”

“He ain’t cheap,” she grinned. “Just broke, or got that way fast. Did I ever tell you girls how I learned to play poker?”

“No, and what does that have to do with the price of tea in Dublin?” Alice looked back at the receding lights and noise of the NCO club with a sigh. “This better be good cuz there was this potential dreamboat who was giving me the eye the last 20 minutes, and I tell you what, would eat him up like cheese and crackers.”

“And in the morning you would’ve found a ‘crumb’ between the sheets. Nope, this is ten times better.” Ice just kept grinned (boy is her face gonna hurt in the morning) as she stuck an aristocratic pose. “This fine figure of alpha womanhood that stands before you,” she began in a Thurston Howell the Third voice (Alice and I were making gagging noises) “became the well educated student of the Rules According to Hoyle....” Here ole Thurston left Beacon Hill and made a bee line for the Northside of Chicago from whence she hailed. “One Sunday morning when I was about eight years old. Was too sick to go to Sunday School, so Mom left me in care of my Dad and took my brothers and sisters on to church. Dear old alpha daddy had no idea what to do to entertain an eight year old girl, so he did the only thing he could think of.”

“And that was?” Probably should have seen it coming but still a little pissed about being pulled out the club and any chance of getting Top to buy those free drinks.

“Taught me to play cards. And not just ‘Crazy Eights’ or ‘Old Maid’ either.....”

“He showed you how to play poker.” I was slowly catching a glimpse of what Ice was driving at. Then it hit me. “You cleaned out Top!”

“Him and about five other guys,” she smirked. “Skinned em like trout and one little fun fact. The more I drink, the better I play. Eights and Ace’s, got em with a Dead Mans Hand.” Ice broke into ‘you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold em.’

“But you couldn’t have gotten much,” Alice said as we turned onto the company street. “It’s mid-month. Everyone is pretty well broke or hanging on to every last dime till the first of the month.”

“Got three hundred buckaroos,” Ice crowed. “Then I hit it lucky on that slot machine in the corner of the bar, the one behind the phone booth, the one that NEVER pays out. Well, it did tonight. To the tune of EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Wait....“I thought the club got rid of all the slot machines.”

Ice winked, “which is why it’s BEHIND the phone booth.” By this time we’d gotten back to the 509th Airborne Infantry Battalion Combat Team, Combat Support Company, long name for a small building, it was shortly after midnight. The two story brick and yellow stucco was put together sometime in the 50’s and added to in years since and is now our home sweet home for the time being. 

Passed by the company clerks office and waved at the CQ (charge of quarters) runner and NCOIC (non commissioned officer in charge) who were on for the night. Both threw us the finger, ‘love you both too’ we called back going up the stairs to our room. The quarters I shared with Ice and Alice were big enough so that we could take the bunks apart and put a bed up against each wall with the foot lockers at the head or foot of the bunk. Mine was under the window. Loved that first touch of morning sun....which I usually only got to feel on weekends, as reveille’ was at Oh Dark 30.

“Cast your peepers on this good friends and gentle neighbors and behold my greatness!”Ice dug into the deep pockets of her painters pants and dumped her winnings on the bed. HOLY CRAP! Hadn’t seen that much money in one place since the weekend Uncle Beanie the Bookie stayed at my folks house when I was a pup. Curiously, there were three stray pieces of folded up paper in that pile of dough, ray, me....picked one of those papers out of the pile, expecting someones IOU but... “This is a four day pass.” Then picked up the other ones, “these are too. Where did you get them?”

“The Top Kick,” Ice said. “I actually won three hundred and fifty bucks but Sgt Major couldn’t go home to his mate after losing all that money. She’d rip him a new ass hole so big you could turn a Vespa around in it six times all while doin wheelies. So we swapped. Three four day passes for a few pictures of a bunch of dead presidents.”

“So what are you going to do with all the money?” Alice picked up a few of the 10’s and 20’s, letting them dribble through her fingers like confetti.

“We and I ain’t speaking French here, you, me, us’ins, the three of us are going on a trip.” She went over to her locker and took out a pamphlet. “Here, the Excelsior Hotel in Naples.” Ice reverently unfolded it, “a jewel in the crown of the Cigna Hotel Group, overlooking the Bay of Naples. One of the finest hotels in the city.”

“Wow,” Alice and I could hardly breathe as we looked at the pictures. The rooms were gorgeous; tapestries on the walls, red silk bed spreads, oriental carpets, room service up the wazoo. “But it has to cost a mint.”

Ice ran a gentle finger tip up the side of the photo of Mt Vesuvius. “It’s $120 dollars a night....”

“Oh My Alpha GOD!” Alice’s eyes went wide as saucers. “You can’t do that Ice, that’s a fortune!”

“Ain’t we worth it?”

Hard to deny that question. “Well, yeah but...”

“The train down and back is only 17,000 lira, 20 bucks round trip. It’s about a five hour ride, seven if we took your car Otter.” Then she went all ‘Godfather’ on us. “Lemme make you an offer you can’t refuse. You pay for your food and souvenirs and I’ll get the room and train tickets.”

I looked at the pictures of those rooms. “You thought about this a while haven’t you?”

Ice policed up her winnings, rolled them into a wad big enough to choke a horse and coiled the issue garter belt (yeah the army still made us have those stupid things even if we didn’t wear em) around the dough, shoving it in the back of the locker. “Hell yeah, ever since that Sunday morning Dad taught me to play cards. He also talked about some of his time in the war. Pop was a heavy equipment mechanic with the First Armored Division, ‘Old Ironsides’. Mechanics tended to be older guys, in their late 20’s or early 30’s.”

“That’s like my grandpa,” Alice chimed in. “He was in his 30’s and a cook in England, or he became one. The battalion cook/butcher got killed in an air raid the night before Grandpa was suppose to ship out for France when the call went down for anyone who knew how to butcher a cow. Gramps did, so he got to stay in England for the rest of the war, cooking for the guys coming through.”

“Cool,” Ice sat back down on her bunk next to the brochure. “Anyway, he talked about the time he and his buddy Jerry Phelps got leave to go to the rest area in Naples. They didn’t like the accommodations at the rest area, so they snuck off to see what else they could find.”

“They found the Excelsior.” I looked longingly at the pictures of the bright blue waters of the Bay of Naples.

“Yup, it kind got hit in a couple of the air raids, but the hotel was still open and catering to the officer set.” Ice put a finger under her nose and tilted her head up. “La de fucken da. So they pretended to be officers and got in. Spent two nights there before the manager found out they weren’t and kicked em out. But by that time, Dad and Jerry were ready to go back to the division anyways.” 

Glad Ice’s dad could talk about his time in service. My Dad was in the Navy, he didn’t talk about it much, after having two ships shot out from under him or being blown out of a landing craft, could see why.

“Pop still has this old post card from there. It’s kind of wrinkled, got dunked in Tiber River once or twice and had some sweat/grease stains on it, but he would still pull it out and look at it. When I got assigned here, promised him would some how get to the Excelsior Hotel, even if it was just to stand outside to take a picture. Now, we can stay there.”

Could see this meant a lot to her and what the hell. Got a little put aside, so it’s a can do. “Okay,” I said. I’m in.

“Me too,” Alice nodded. “Let’s do it. But when can we go?”

Ice stood up and checked the Cal State calendar (what is it about that guy that looks so familiar?) she had on her locker door. “If our luck holds out and there’s no alerts, how about the last week end of this month or if their booked the first weekend in May? It will avoid the April exercise the brass have planned and Easter Holy Week.” 

“I think we gotta plan Stan,” Alice got up off the bed and went over to hers. “Think I’ll close my eyes for a moment, then go back to the club and see if I can hunt up ‘Mr Cheese and Crackers’. But within a minute or two she was sound asleep and snoring like a kitten. Went over and tugged off her shoes, then pulled the fuzzy wool issue blanket up to her shoulders.

Now looked over at the brochure still laying on Ice’s bunk. Maybe this is what I was waiting for after all.

 

Wear’en of the Green  
Corporal James Doughney  
NCO Academy Administration Building  
Room 2  
Fort Bragg, North Carolina  
17 March 1979  
09:00 AM Eastern Standard Time

Special Forces Sargent Major Hiram Seegler was a rather interesting specimen, if you like em tall, dark and scary as hell. Yup, this dude looked like he could kill ya with a glance and maim you with a sneer. He had me and a few of the other guys from the NCO Leadership Course 3-79 jacked up against the wall of our First Sergeants office, looking us up and down like we was ‘pro’s’ down on Hay Street. And he was doing the ‘eenie, meanie, miney moe’ as to which one of us looked least likely to have the clap.

It’s 09:00 o’clock on a Saturday morning. It’s Saint Patricks Day. We should be drunk as hell already. But no, about a dozen of us were in Tops office at the school admin building because the Green Beanies from the U.S. Army Institute for Military Assistance (the polite name for the ‘Fuck Hearts and Minds and Grab em by the Balls Trade School Bar and Grill’) came in to look us over. I suppose I should be honored to be part of this small group, being in the top 10 percent (okay, I’m number 11 but math was never my thing) but if I’d wanted to be a Beret I would’ve been eating snakes instead of pulling a lanyard long before this.

“You guys are the best of this whole class? Jesus Christ, they’ll slap stripes on anybody these days.” This guy is suddenly two inches from my face. “Why do you wanna be in MY Special Forces?” He spat out, his words and spit dripping from my chin. On the upside, his breath is minty fresh.

“I don’t Sargeant Major.”

“Why is that Corporal Dung Heap?” Seegler looked at me like I’d just set fire to the main post chapel, pissed from the belfry (maybe I should piss from the belfry first, then pull out the Zippo second, don’t wanna scorch my dick) and danced naked in the ashes. “You think you’re too good for us? Or you’re not good enough and too much a wimp to say so?”

Now I fluffed up like my little sisters cat when he’s ticked. Did he just call me ‘Dung Heap’ and a WIMP all in one breath?!

“You know what a wimp is, don’t ya? A weak, incompetent, malingering PUSSY!”

Now I’m hotter then a two dollar pistol. “Sargeant Major, with all due respects, I don’t want to be in Special Forces today. It’s St Patrick’s Day, I wanna dance, get laid and get so plowed you won’t find me till harvest time. And not necessarily in that order.” That’s when I slammed my forehead against his. “Tomorrow, when I’m hung over and puking on the daisies, I will give your offer the due consideration it deserves. But right now, I gotta date with a bottle of Jack. So am I excused?”

Now Top is giving me an interested look. “Is it a full bottle?”

“For the moment, Sargeant Major.” Had bought it yesterday, but had resisted the urge to bust it’s cherry until this morning.

“And do you have any plans of sharing with the class?”

“Maybe, Sargent Major.”

About a half hour later, Jack was a ‘dead solder’ and kicked under the First Sergeants desk. Seegler had pulled a bottle of Wild Turkey from the duffel bag he’d gotten from the trunk of his car. We all were sitting on the floor passing The Bird from hand to hand. “You know,” he said boozily. “you get an automatic promotion to E-5 if you graduate.”

“So? In a few years I’ll get it anyway.” Oh man, this bottle’s almost empty too. Shit fire and conserve matches. My class mates hogged it all down. Greedy sons a bitches.

“You get extra money.”

“No worth getten ate by the chiggers.” Those suckers are as big as rats down here.

“Chicks dig a beret.” Seegler pulled another bottle of Turkey out of the duffel bag.

“What?” Now he had my attention. “Really?”

“Yup, slicks too. A green beret is a guaranteed golden ticket to snatchdom .” Seegler broke the seal, unscrewed the cap and took a healthy swig before passing it over to me.

“Naw, you’re yank’en my crank.”

“Nope. That little bit of head gear will get you more pussy in three minutes then you could fuck in a whole year.’”

“In a year?”

“Ya damn betch’em Red Ryder.”

“Sign me up.” 

 

Sick as a Small Hospital  
Uriel Youmans  
Room 25 Bachelor Officers Quarters  
Fort Belvior, Virginia  
17 March 1979  
07:00 AM Eastern Standard Time

Woke up this morning feeling like shit. Oh man, whatever I’ve got it just won’t go away. Even with some help from that bottle of Wild Irish Rose (haven’t asked for ‘Rosie with a skirt’ since high school) Oh dear Alpha God, what was I thinking? Dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom where, oh crap. Threw up everything including my toe nails into the john.

Our Officers Basic class had their graduation ceremonies yesterday, which is the other reason had gotten so trashed. I should have been at the top. ME! But I wasn’t, Linnea was. That little slick bitch had wormed her way into my good graces and then betrayed me. I came in second. Father always said if you’re not first, you might was well be last. Most of the class went to celebrate at the officers club, I met up with Miss Rosie at the Class 6 Store.

Well, the only good thing I had to celebrate was the test results from the free clinic here in town where I’d gone to get tested for....ahem.....Venus’s Curse. Called them shortly after the graduation ceremony from one of the pay phones at the PX. Last thing I need is to have that kind of thing in my medical records. The tests all came back negative for gonorrhea, syphilis or herpes.....which I don’t understand why they’d test for cold sores. Probably should’ve been tested immediately after finding out about....no! I can’t even say his name. But it was just such a shock and then tried to fuck it out of my system. Linnea, Susie the civilian clerk from the admin office, whatever that chicks name was I’d picked up at that bar last weekend. 

Well, now I gotta buckle down and get serious. The specialty course starts on Monday. Combat Engineering, no women, no omegas. Just men, manly men, doing manly things. Alphas and betas, the type of people who should only be in the army anyway. The others are fine to type, file and do all that menial office work, but only alpha men (and maybe some betas) have the natural ability to lead from the front and fight.

Stand up slowly and move over to the sink. The guy looking back at me from the mirror, Holy Alpha God, what a nasty look’en ole fucker. But tell you what, hopefully won’t be seeing his ugly ass face too much longer. Or at least until I get this piss ass drunk again.

 

Daar Kikker Je van op (this will frog you up)  
Major General (Promotable) John Winchester  
Chief of Staff’s Office  
NATO HQ  
Brussels, Belgium  
17 March 1979  
08:30 AM Central European Time

One of the first things I did after REFORGER was over, was put in a requisition to get a few more people on my staff. Not that Jo Harvelle, Sgt Ellis and Stella (by Starlight) weren’t doing their jobs, but found that I needed to be better doing mine. Having Lou Reynolds as my second back at Fort Riley was a blessing as he brought an outsiders view that got me past those occasional bouts of American tunnel vision. Found I needed a little bit more local knowledge and ‘in’ to our NATO partners would be a big plus in making the Boss’s life and in turn mine, run much smoother. So, after a look round, on to my staff came a Brit, a German, a Belgian and because I couldn’t help myself after watching ‘The Mouse that Roared’ one night on AFN, a fellow from Luxembourg. 

Left-ten-ant Rodney Sawyer, at first glance looked like one of those candy ass dandies that you seem to trip over at NATO a lot. I wouldn’t have considered him at all except that he’d come recommended by Lou and Sawyer was just back from a year long tour in Northern Ireland. That put some starch in his spine and the thousand yard stare in his eyes. 

Herr Oberstabsfeldwebel (Sargeant Major) Rosen Kavalier was a trusted NCO of Gerdies from the old days. If he could get Gerdie out of Russia in almost one piece, then he should be able to do the same for me in the battlefield of international relations. Once I’ve earned his confidence, that is.

Major Leonard Weis had simply shown up at my office one day after word went round about this hardass American General looking for foreign staff officers. As Luxenbourg had less then 1000 people in it’s army, he had little to do and hated being idle. Weis had started out his career being assigned to the 8th US Infantry Division, 505 Infantry Regiment back in the 60’s. He’s been at the sharp end of the stick in the Dominican Republic, fought hard and could play well with others. The major is a jump’in fool with more foreign parachute wings on his chest then anyone I’d ever seen (did say he hated being idle). Len also smokes the same brand of cigars I do.

Finally there is Korporaal Chief Hadu Van Draak. The woman has a practical head on her shoulders and that is a rare needful commodity in this world. Got her the rocker under her stripes so she is now a 1ste Korporaal Chief, same rank level but now denotes command. Like the difference between being a Spec 4 and a Corporal. 

Each of these four came with things I needed. A liking for Americans (even if we tend to be a strange lot) an ability to speak enough English to converse (although according to Lou, Americans don’t speak English we speak at it) and access. Access at all levels here at this mishmash of countries we call NATO and that I need to get to. Top, middle and bottom.

“You asked for me and no one else from my country’s army,” the Korporaal Chief said during her interview. “Can I ask why that is Sir?” Her English is textbook and heavily accented but it’s good enough. There is no tremor in her voice, but just a slight one in her hands.

I suppose the whole thing looked kind of impressive or frightening, depends on your point of view. The big ass desk, the American flag on one side, the NATO flag on the other and yours truly (magnificent specimen of US Grade A bull alpha manhood) sitting there. I’ve had Colonels piss themselves...which probably why I have trouble remembering their names...when sitting before me. She a little nervous but is hiding it well. “You saw a need, acted on it without being ordered to and then made sure that the needs of the support personnel were taken care of also.

“I brought you soepe.” 

“It was damn good soup, and then you brought some out for my aide and driver.” She had also make sure there was a fresh soup pot out on the tables for the men who’d come in from the cold after an hour of digging out the ice covered rail road tracks at the Port of Antwerp.

“But it was just soepe. A small thing.”

“And if the small things had been taken care of, ‘The Late Company B’ wouldn’t be so late.” I smiled ruefully, “sorry. It was a training film about an infantry company who did not pay attention to the small things and it got them wiped out.” Had to say this right. “I need a details person. Someone who can get out there, see the things I can’t and make the corrections.”

“I am but a Korpaaral Chief.”

“Do you know who’s in command of this office?”

“You are Sir.” 

“No.” I shook my head, “on paper yes. But in reality, it’s Stella. That’s right, Stella. Nothing gets in, out or done in this joint without her okay. Doesn’t matter if she’s ‘just a secretary’ or an omega. Stell is the only person who can walk into General Haig’s office when he’s on the phone with the President of the United States of America and he will put the leader of the free world on hold to speak with her.” (What I didn’t say was that he did it because the Boss man didn’t like that Peanut Farmer in the White House any more then any of us did) “I’ve seen privates with more power then a general. Hell, I was one once and had more leeway then I do now.” 

“Truly, Sir?” Could tell, she hadn’t thought of it like that before.

“Yup. You have access I don’t. You can see things that are purposely hidden from my eyes. You get to tell me the truth without fear of retaliation.” Explained further what her duties were going to entail (no, she’s not spying- just gathering intelligence-there is a difference-somewhere) and that she’ll be under the supervision of Captain Harvelle. But, if she needed to speak to me about a matter directly, my door would never be closed to her. Stood up, “think you can do the job Korpaaral Chief?”

“Joat, Generaal Winchester ik kan! Then she stopped herself...and said... “yes General Winchester. I can.”

Come Saint Patricks Day morning, had everyone in for a breakfast meeting. Irish coffee and Saison (farmhouse) beer went along with the smoked ham, cheese, good dark bread and rice custard tarts that filled the table. The Korpaaral Chief of course brought the soup. “It beer soup,” she beamed. “Daar Kikker Je van op (this will frog you up). Fine by me, let’s get hopp’in

Lt Sawyer looked a little hard pressed when I raised a glass to toast St Patrick, but he stiff upper lipped and drank. But brightened considerably when I next proposed a salute to her Majesty Queen Elizabeth..God Save the Queen. Which brought a toast to each of the leaders of their respective countries. Including the United States where....well.....if Lt Sawyer could make nice and force a mouth full of beer down his gullet to St Patrick after a year in Northern Ireland, how could I not raise my glass to Jimmy Carter, Alpha God help me. 

 

Roll Me over in the Clover  
Mick Davies  
The Harp and Hammer Bar  
Second Floor  
Falls Road  
Belfast Northern Ireland  
17 March 1979  
11:30 PM Greenwich Mean Time

 

“Hello Molly me darlin.” I’d crept in her bedroom over the Harp and Hammer, climbing up the down pipe and through the window only to be met with the business end of a shotgun. But no more then I expected from Molly Rose Patrick. A long lean lovely with a pert nose, blue eyes, red hair and a heart as black as sin. Ah, I love that in a girl.

“Oh don’t you Molly me darlin me Mick Davies, what do ya want?”

“Can’t a man visit the prettiest Colleen in the city without an ulterior motive?”

““Aye, but only if their name ain’t Mick Davies of Interpol.” She slowly got up from her bed, the double barrels never moving from the invisible target on my chest. She had on only short white linen shirt, showed those long coltish legs of hers that went from her ass to the floor. Twas a fine sight and all of me was happy to see it. “And ye normally visit a lady through her bedroom window?” The hammers being pulled back made an omminous click. Maybe not that fine after all.

“Only when I can’t go through the tavern door down stairs. Your brother Brian still is holding a wee bit of a nasty grudge.”

“As well he should, you almost got him killed that last time you asked him to help you.” Brian was a provo who likes to cause a mountain of trouble for the Protestants and Tans. He also couldn’t keep his mouth zipped if the Holy Mother herself begged him to, as he told everything to his sister. And if she was in the right mood, dear Molly would talk after the bed springs sang.

“Now, now,” took a chance and walked up till the end of the barrels rested over my heart. “You know how reckless and stupid he can get. And he certainly was a right dope that night.”

“Aye, that he was.” Molly conceded, clicked on the safety and set the shot gun down against the bed but still within easy reach. “But I know you Mick, ye ain’t one for sweet talking a girl without good reason. Ask and shove off, or....” she said loosening a button on her night shirt. “Ye can stay for a bit of fun. As I can’t wear white in good conscience to my mating after thee stole my maiden head.” Stole? She as much bashed the guard over the head with a rock, poured the priest drunk as a monkey on communion wine and handed the keys to the kingdom over to me with her own hand. Then Molly turned into a belittlen step mother, “or are ye too good for the likes of a little Catholic beta girl now that you’ve had a taste of some of that Hun Generals omega whore?” 

How she found out, was like most things Molly Rose Patrick found out. Someone talked, then talked again and then ended up sweating and swearing in Mollys bed. She’s a nice girl, but could give her a shake and watch the dicks fall out. “No thanks,” reached over and buttoned up that top button. Though it took everything I had not put a hand about that throat of hers and squeeze till the light went dim in her eyes. “Just want a question answered, then we can say our good nights and I’ll take my leave.” The wee Novac was no ones whore, not General Reynolds nor mine.

“Get rid of the feather up your ass,” she snorted. “So, what do did you want to know?”

“There’s been whisperings of a big blow up coming soon here in this sweet land. Need to know when, where and how.”

“Heard there was something about that,” the lady said offhandedly as if we discuss’en the watercress in the finger sandwiches at some toffs garden party. “But why should I be tellen you anything?”

“Because a lot of people are going to be killed needlessly and be bringing a lot more trouble then this country can want.”

“Meaning those bastards back in London want,” Molly snarled. “Go fack yourself Mick. Hump off before I gets Brian and have him and the fellas finish the job they started that last time.” Brian and the boys gave me a right thumping after that last little ‘errand’ went badly. But I gave as good as I got and Brian still has his pants in a knot about his eye. Not like he doesn’t have another and looks right rake-ish in an eye patch. The ladies seemed to like it.

Before she could take a breath to call for her brother, had my fingers round her throat. “I can leave ye here dead on the floor, as much as it would pain me, or very much alive. Tell me and I’ll be gone quick as fairies.” Let loose just enough for Molly Rose to be able to speak. But ready to squeeze if she was to shout a warning.

“The boys are planning something for the 22nd of this month, that’s all I know,” she gasped out. “Now hump off ya boggin dryshite.” Tossed her to the floor, grabbed the shot gun, threw it out the window and then followed out and down the pipe to the alley. Molly was at the window shrieking the second my feet touched the cobblestones and was pelting down the alley. “I’LL SEE YOU COME TO A BAD END MICK DAVIES! MARK MY WORDS!”

“GOTTA CATCH ME FIRST YA BOGGIN SLEG!”

 

Oh Paddy Dear, oh did ya hear....  
Elliot Rogers  
Pharmacy Department  
Walter Reed Army Hospital  
17 March 1979  
08:30 AM Eastern Standard Time

 

There’s a reason why you should NEVER, EVER volunteer for ANYTHING! My time at the Citadel should’ve taught me that, Daddy Ashton pounded it into our heads. NEVER VOLUNTEER! You may get ‘volunteered’ but NEVER VOLUNTEER DAMN IT! So what did I do? I volunteered to do inventory on a Saturday morning when I should be still in bed having relations with my little......yes I KNOW what my mate looks like....Chickie poo.

No, but I’m here in the pharmacy department of ‘Walter Wonderful’ counting pills. Had been promised a little extra money in my stipend check for doing it and seeing that any extra was godsend, I came in. So sat there going through bottle after bottle, reconciling what was showing in the records to what I was finding. Most of it was correct, there was a few things that were off by a pill or two, right up until I got to the Preomerine. That’s funny the bottles were full, but with the wrong pills. What was in them looked like Preomerine but in actuality were sugar pills. The numbers etched on the body of the tablet was wrong, which is how I figured it out. Of the four bottles, only one had the correct medication, while the rest didn’t. 

Major Mark Sekulow, was sitting in his office catching up on his paper work. As the head of the pharmacy department, he had to be there for any inventory. “Excuse me Sir,” tapped on the office door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” he turned and looked up over the glasses perched on his nose. “What can I do for you Elliot?”

“When I was counting out the Preomerine, found only one bottle had the actual drug in it. The others were nothing but sugar pills.” Had brought along one of the containers for him to see. “I even checked against pictures in the PDR, the Physicians Desk Reference. And they’re almost identical. See?” Had also brought the book with me and flipped the pages back and forth. 

“You’re right. This isn’t good. Good catch there.” But the Major’s words weren’t matching his scent. The smell of brackish water was wafting up behind the Old Spice. “I’m sure it’s just a simple error by the distributor, but to be on the safe side, will have someone from CID come by on Monday.” Then he smiled, “why don’t you wrap this up for the morning Rogers. It’s St Patricks Day, go home to that little ‘mega of yours. You can always finish this next Saturday.” And before I could say anything, “don’t worry, will still get that extra $20 in your stipend check.”

“Are you sure? I’m only part way through....” This is the guy who never let ANYONE loose early for anything. From the stories the pharmacy techs told, they had to stay right up until the end of their shifts and after on Christmas and New Years Eve.

“Yes!”A snarl crept into the Majors voice before he caught himself. “Yes,” the word poured out of his mouth like poison honey, “I’m sure. You done great work here in the Pharmacy Dept since you’ve arrived. Just wanted to show our gratitude for a job well done.”

“Thank you Major Sekulow.” Okay, getting CID (Criminal Investigations Division) in here is the right thing to do. But why do I get the feeling things will be very different come Monday morning when those bottles of sugar pills will ‘conveniently’ disappear and will be replaced by ones full of Preomerine. Thanked him again and left but didn’t close the door all the way.

The alarm bells were going off in my head and if the hunch I was going to play didn’t pan out, then well.....I can go back to Wainwright Hall in good conscience. Walked down the hallway, opened and closed the pharmacy door but didn’t walk through, instead slipped out of my shoes and ducked around the corner. Counted to 10, listened for the Major’s door to open or close and when it did neither, tip toed back down the hall. “You got sloppy again.” Heard the Major talking to someone on the phone. “How many times have I told you to be careful.” Ooooo, someone is getting ripped a new asshole. “After that idiot blew it for us in London, wouldve expected you and Ketch to tread lightly.” 

Ketch? Who’s Ketch? What happened in London?

“Can’t stall Kirkpatrick too much longer without raising suspicion. CID wants answers, including some senator from the great state of ‘oh my goodness’. No, we can’t buy him off; money, booze or broads don’t interest him and any dirt that we can find doesn’t add up to a hill of beans. He’s got more friends in high places then Jesus Christ and more lives then Ted Kennedy’s cat.” There was silence for a moment as the other person on the line was talking. “Okay, get the merchandise out to Deep Creek. The president of PA Electric has a summer home out there he rarely uses and my brother is the care taker. Stash em there for the time being.” 

What the hell is ‘Deep Creek’? I listened until the Majors conversation is over and he banged the receiver down in the cradle. I snuck back down the hall to the pharmacy. Alpha God! What’s going on?! What do I do now? Gotta put these bottles where no one will find em, with enough deniability, should they stumble on em.

Set the one bottle back in it’s spot while I took the others over to shelf where the sugar pills where and set them behind the other sugar pill bottles. Then made xerox copies of the inventory report.

Put my shoes back on, then made a show and plenty of noise walking back up the hall to say I had stayed long enough to tidy things up and was leaving. “Happy Saint Patricks Day, Sir.” Then forced myself to walk out, get in the car and calmly drive away as if there was nothing going on. Got home, again walked calmly across the parking lot but the minute I stepped over the threshold, raced up to our room. Chickie was still in bed and snoring like a buzz saw. “WAKE UP!” Bounced on the bed and tossed off the covers.

“Shut up ya Red Assed Barbarian,” he growled and threw a pillow at me. “Go away.”

“Get a hold of the Senator and Professor Kirkpatrick. NOW!”

Chickie turned over and pushed the sleeping mask up on his forehead. “Ya’ll better have a good reason for waking me up ON THE FIRST SATURDAY I’VE HAD OFF IN MONTHS!” Did I mention my darling has a poisonous temper first thing in the morning before coffee or when woke up too quick? 

“VALENTINE PEACHES MARIE ROGERS!” Never used my alpha voice on him ever. I valued my life and manhood but need him to pay attention right now! And it worked. He shut right up. Now I better talk fast if I wanna stay mated. “Baby, there’s something going in the pharmacy department over at Walter Reed. Please don’t be mad at me Honey, but I needed you to listen to me!”

His jaw was wiggling and when finally was able to talk....“it better be right up there with the second FUCKING COMING OR A SHOE SALE AT LORD AND TAYLOR! CUZ IF NOT, I’M GONNA RIP YOUR NUTS OFF IF YA’LL EVER TO THAT TO ME AGAIN!” 

“I’m sorry Darling, but Honey Baby, it is so important!” Talk fast Rogers, grovel later. “It’s something to do with that thing you’re working on with Professor Kirkpatrick. The one about the phony omegas. I think...maybe.... that Major Sekulow is in on it and stealing drugs from the pharmacy department.” Now it was all coming out of my mouth in gobs. “I think they’re taking Preomerine....”

“Why would they steal that? It’s just an omega hormone....” then a look of realization crossed his face. My Darlin bounded out of bed, ran to the desk, yanking open the drawer and began tossing papers out willy nilly. “Where is it? Where is it? Where......” Chickie singled out a sheet of paper from the bunch, “there. The toxicology report showed high levels of Preomerine. Enough to override the beta characteristics.” The Professor has been wondering where they could get enough of the drug to supply the growing number of phony omegas turning up in the DC area dead. So far two have turned up in the Potomac and three in the Anacostia River. Hell, even had one turn up in the Hickey Run. Well, I guess now we know where they were getting their drugs or until they couldn’t.”

Came up and looked over his shoulder at the report he was reading. “Have you heard of some place called Deep Creek? That was mentioned as the place they’re stashing the ‘merchandise’.”

Chickie shook his head, “nope. But the Senator might. Did you hear anything else that might give us an idea of where it could be?”

“Just that the president of PA Electric has a summer home there and that’s where they were going.”

“Good, then we have a little more to go on,” Chickie was picking up the phone when I took it from him and slammed it down. “What in the Sam Hell are you doing?”

“I don’t trust the switch board at this point.” Know I was sounding crazy and paranoid but this is just too big and don’t want anyone to figure out what we know. “Let’s just get changed and head out looking like we’re going to a party. We can call either the Senator or Kirkpatrick from that payphone at the 7-11 down the road.”

I went and showered first being that Chickie was still reading and putting together a file to take with us. Thank the Alpha God, Wainwright Hall has plenty of hot water because the BOQ didn’t. Had shaved earlier this morning but ran a razor over my face just in case there was a spot I missed. Got out, dried off and then came out to put on something that would look party-ish. The pukka shell necklace Chickie got me for my last birthday, tight bell bottoms, camel hair jacket and open necked white oxford shirt. My darling was dithering in front of his clothes closet, “Halston or Thea Porter?”

“Does it matter?!”

“Yes it does you heathen!” He snapped. “If we’re going to pull this off, we gotta sell the idea we’re going to an afternoon party. As a man/alpha/northerner, you can get away with looking like a facified fart in a windstorm, I however, cannot.” My darling went back to mumbling to himself as he pushed the clothes hangers about. “Maybe something like a ‘chic’ Laura Ashley or Gunne Sax.......either would make me look like I should be on a Georgia Tech homecoming float.” Then he slammed the closet door shut. “Every thing I own is over two seasons old!” Chickie wailed, tossing himself on the bed. “I’d be laughed out of the country club in any of those old things!” 

Even though that whole tirade sounded ridiculous, I still felt like a shit. Poor mated college students can barely afford food and the occasional bottle of wine, let alone Halston. “I always liked you in this one,” pulled out a sea green chiffon omega gown, that he wore on our mating day. It showed off his curves and left enough to the imagination that I wasn’t growling (too much) when he last wore it. “You’re always so amazing looking in green.”

Chickie looked up from where he’d buried his face in the pillow. “Oh that one just screams submissive little omega...Elliot Sweetheart, you’re a genus!”

“I am?” Usually I get told the opposite.

“Yes you are. That rig is perfect to get us out the building, to that phone booth and it’s just right for an early afternoon soiree.” My darl’in clambered out of bed, shucked off his bathrobe, grabbed the gown and headed to the bathroom to primp, powder and perfume his big beauteous self. In the mean time, have taken off my jacket and shoes, turned on the TV and flopped down on the bed to watch ‘Jonny Quest’. Knowing my mate, this whole procedure was gonna take a while. Was dozing off half way through ‘Flash Gordon’ when he came out. “Well my Young Lochinvar, was I worth the wait?” Then he giggled coquettishly, “of course I am.”

Looked up and was jerked fully awake. “Hummmmina hummmina hummmina!!!!!” He was gorgeous! Chanel No. 5 (Every omega alive, wants Chanel No. 5) wafted from behind his ears, brown eyes made even more dark and seductive with Maybelline’s best, lips full and pink. The gown showed everything yet nothing. Chickies curves were outlined, those big ole hips swung to and fro like a metronome as he crossed the room. (Gotta learn that tea cup on your head trick) This was the omega I mated, gave up the Citadel and generations of family tradition for......and would walk through Hell in a gasoline suit to do it again!

“There’s just one more thing missing,” Valentine walked over to his jewelry box, fished through it and pulled out the plug with the sterling silver jingle bells hanging from it. Then he glided over to the work desk, hiked up the gown and bent over. “Don’t tear the chiffon or smudge my war paint....well? What are you waitin for Suga? The engraved invitation to come in the mail?”

Not me! I saw my duty and I done it.

A little while later, as we walked out I causally growled at any alpha that chanced to walk by. My Valentine on Saint Patrick’s Day was on my arm, smelling of sex and Chanel, with those jingle bells going off with each step like it was Christmas Eve and Santa was cuming, or in this case, already came. Ho. Ho. Ho. Chickie didn’t walk, but glided like on ice skates, “breeding will tell”, he said demurely. Head bowed under a covering that matched the gown. 

As we got to the car, I stopped to open his door, then kiss his finger pads. Yup, giving up that Citadel ring was the easiest and best move I ever made. My classmates all thought I was crazy, right up until they heard I’d be a Captain while they would still all be lieutenants. Ha. Ha. Ha. Who’s crazy now? “So,” I said, turning the key and letting the Ford Fairlane roar to life. “Does this make us ‘Nick and Nora’ or ‘Holmes and Watson’?” Then tugged on the brim of an invisible fedora and putting on the tough guy voice: “what about Mike Hammer and Velda? Sweet hart.”

“All and none of the above,”Chickie said with a bit of a seductive grin and crossing those long luscious gams of his. “We’re the Alpha and Omega Rogers. ‘They’ may start some thin, but WE finish it.”

Oh man, something this insane shouldn’t be making me this horny.

At the 7-11, I popped a quarter (high way robbery, I tell you! Back in Athens, phone calls were a dime!) in the pay phone, handing the receiver over to Chickie who dialed the number and then waited. After a moment, “well hello Mary Lou, Valentine Rogers here. Why thank you, I’m fine and yes school is a bit demanding. How are the grandpups? Is that so?! Well, I never!” This went on for several more minutes and quarters until finally, asked if the Senator was about and if he could have a short word, if possible. (ABOUT FUCKING TIME!)

“Who’s this Mary Lou person,” when it became apparent that she set the phone down and went to fetch the Senator. 

“Oh, she’s the Senators mate,” Chickie explained. “We’ve known each other for just ever. We used to go shopping together at Rich’s in Atlanta, Miller and Rhoads in Richmond, Ivey’s in Charlotte...oh good afternoon Senator. How’re you feeling? That’s just fine.” And began once more the litany of good manners that being a polite Southerner is plagued with. Was now down to plugging in dimes and nickles, when Chickie FINALLY got down to the reason for the call. After just a few words, he nodded, said we would love to have luncheon with ya’ll and will be there in a jiffy. “Bye now, love to Mary Lou.” And he hung up the phone. “Fill you in on the way as to what my deara Senator said, AFTER we find a rest room, because I need to wash the Doublemint gum and social diseases off my hands this instant!

 

Put the Lime in the Coconut  
Erika Reynolds  
Quarters Two  
British Army on the Rhine  
Bielefeld, West Germany  
17 March 1979  
08:30 AM Central European Time

Got the results for the ‘O’s’ and A’s back yesterday. I passed with A’s! The ‘rents were so proud and Mum was so happy she actually said my name. Ever since Eric died (the big git failed his twice and only got into Uni because Grandfather talked to somebody) Mum had called me ‘Darling’, ‘Honey’ or ‘Sweetie’. Every thing but Erika. But yesterday she said: “Oh Erika, that’s such wonderful news!” Then Mum got this funny look on her face, like she was suddenly remembered that she a daughter. Who was still alive and standing before her.

Bet she’s glad she didn’t sell me to the gypsies now.

But oddly enough on the same day, got a letter in the post saying I was accepted into Kings College for medicine, starting next month for the April term. Something tells me Grandfather or Mum had a hand in that as it’s a VERY select program and only eight people a term get chosen.

It isn’t that I’m not grateful for the leg up, but......wanted to do it on my own. Because of who I am, me-Erika Reynolds-smart girl, not because of who Dad is or that Mum and Grandfather have some stupid old title that means nothing these days. Or that Grandfather did something important for the government. Mum says he’s pensioned, but after the things I saw back in Washington (who’s that cute Irishman who’s Grandfathers batman?) and listened to after Eric was killed, don’t think the pension took. 

Anyway, I go Cambridge next month. After Mum and Dad’s trip across the Channel in January, they loaded me down with so many wool jumpers and socks I think every sheep in Scotland is running about naked. Dad even got me a jacket and jump boots from the paras, better then the coat and boots Mum wanted to get me that had me looking like some ‘Sloanie’. Not that I didn’t like shopping or that some of the clothes in ‘Honey’ weren’t nice it’s just I’m going to school to study, not prance about Sloane Square.

Figure I’ll be there for three years, get my BA degree, take the prerequisite exams to continue on in a medical program and then get the ever living hell out of Cambridge, Briton and Europe for that matter. Am tired of being cold, especially after this year and the past three years in Kansas and Washington...yes...I need sunshine and lots of it. I understand there are medical schools in the Caribbean and I’m going. Don’t care a fig what Mum and Dad are going to say about it. Have started checking; there’s one in Barbados, several in Cuba and the Dominican Republic (except my Spanish is, well to say nonexistent) Grenada has a school and so does Jamaica. 

Will miss Sir Winnie, he’s a sweet little thing. He’s 10 months now and wants to do and get into everything. Will have to go down to see Jesse in K-Town before leaving. He seems to be happy staying with Castiel and enjoying the American school he’s in. Wish I could say I miss Eric, but I don’t. He was a colossal prig and knew he’d come to a bad end. But would never say that in front of Mum. Who I will miss, even if I will miss Dad more. He never forgot to say my name.

 

In a Pickle  
Eric Reynolds  
20 Meters below Tower Bridge  
London, United Kingdom  
17 March 1979  
Time is....doesn’t really matter

 

I always hated Branston pickle. It was sickly sweet and vinegary all at the same time and made nothing taste right. Mum bought the stuff all the time because Dad liked it (didn’t matter if I detested the beastly shit)....AND NOW I’M BLEEDING TRAPPED IN A JAR THAT REEKS OF IT!! (Not like the bleeding Wog could’ve cleaned it out a bit better)At least there is a cigar in here and some rum and garlic....I hate garlic. 

Why is it bad things like this ALWAYS happen to me? It’s not my fault I came to a sticky end because those chaps came to my flat asking questions about those ‘megas popping their clogs. Or that I had to skip out the window without my wallet or that Ketch gave me too much of whatever that was he injected in my arm.

NO! It’s NOT my fault! Or my current predicament. It’s those Warren people. Shortly after Captain Louis toddled off into the light (big git took the fags with him) those people showed and started poking around. Americans. Think they know EVERYTHING! ‘Oh we’re from the United Fucken States and aren’t we just better then you’. When I get to Heaven, am going to give George the What-Ever-the-Bleeding-Hell number he was, a piece of my mind. He could have nipped that whole revolution nonsense right in the bud. But did he? NO! 

Anyway, those Warren people came, some fat alpha chap and his beta wife. Nice pins on her for an older bird. So they come nosing about, so I gives em what for to leave me alone and show I’m not to be trifled with. So what do they do? They bring back with this Wog and his mate, who light up a room full of candles, gets out this jar, all this other stuff and starts rattling a rattle and pounding on this little drum. Then he does this....cheat! Pour half a dram of rum in to the jar and fires up a cigar! Oh billy-o, it smelled sooooooo good! Followed it into the jar and that’s when the damn Wog slams the lid down. I’m stuck in there. Then he goes and ties it to a stone then chucks it in the Thames. It’s dark as pitch down here in the muck and mud, the only light is from the Zippo. Is that fair?! Is this a fair after life? NO!!!!!

“You’re right, it isn’t.” A silky voice agreed.

Looked around quickly, “who said that?” Being in here has made me bonkers! Am starting to hear things.

“You’re not going crazy,” the voice continued. “Though that is the direction we want you headed. Crazy and angry.”

“WHO’S SAY’IN THAT!?” 

“Oh just little ole me,” a pair of yellow lights flowed with the current up to the jar. They glowed like headlamps on a dark country road, only as they got right up to the glass could see those lights were eyes. Pressed myself back against the glass. “Oh come now,” the voice tut tutted. “I’m not going to hurt you...much.”

“Who are you?” If my heart was still beating, it would be hammering out of my chest. “Are you an angel?”

“Yes, I am the angel of....................HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Oh Sweet Seven Hells Bells no! HEE HEE HEE! I’m sorry but I’m still really bad at keeping a straight face. Though IT STILL WOULD BE RATHER NICE TO HAVE ONE LIKE I WAS PROMICED! Sorry again, still new to the gig. Uh, no I’m from the ‘firm’ in the other direction. Think of me kind of like the ‘Anti-Clarence’.”

“Who’s Clarence?” 

“It’s from the movie ‘A Wonderful Life’. Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed? Frank Capra? Perfectly dreadful remake by Marlo Thomas?” I shook my head. “Oh my Alpha Devil, what is wrong with the pups of today? It’s a Christmas classic, you bone head. Clarence is an angel trying to get his wings by helping George Bailey.”

“I don’t care much for American cinema.” Alright, a demon. “What are you trying to get? A pitchfork?”

“A corner office actually,” Auntie Clarence sighed. “You think the British government has a bureaucracy? Hell is worse.”

“So what do you want from me?” 

“Your soul, you big git. Other then that....a corner office, having the Beatles get back together would be swell and the Ayatollah Komeini to stop taking all the fun out torturing the innocent. The man just doesn’t have the talent for the work.”

Huh? “Why would I want to give you that?” Nice to know my soul is right up there with getting George, Paul, Ringo....and....and...who’s that last bloke? Peter? Mike? Davy? Oh figs...the Ayatollah....?

“It’s John, you big idiot. You were naming off The Monkees.” The Yellow eyes rolled skyward. “John, Paul, George and Ringo.” 

I knew that, just couldn’t think of it just then. 

“Anyway, we were talking about your immortal soul. Are you using it right now or ever for that matter? If you did, you wouldn’t be in this pickle.” The peepers then scrooched up....“I made a funny....it’s funny, you’re in a pickle while being in a pickle jar. Come on, you gotta admit it’s a good one. I should be playing Vegas. Can see me now, the warm up act for Lola Falona.”

This has gone from utterly terrifying to worse then watching the PM when he got on the telly. Might as well play along, not like I’ve got to get the vicar’s for tea. “Okay mate, what’s it worth ya?”

“How about getting out of that jar?”

Now he had my interest. “Say, I did. How fast could you get me out of the chokey?”

“2000.”

“2000 what? Minutes, seconds, days?”

“The year 2000.”

“WHAT?!” Auntie Clarence, you can turn your little yellow eyed self right around and swim off ya big tosser.

“It’s the whole Y2K thing.....”

“Huh?” This berk is mad as a bag of ferrets.

“Sorry, spoiler alert.” Auntie did look apologetic, “alright, will have to explain that one in a way you’ll understand it in the here and now......Everyone thinks the computers will crash the stroke of Midnight on the start of the new century. You see, there will be a lot more of them in 1999 and people will depend on em for EVERYTHING....but ha, ha, ha that’s not what happens. In truth, all the darling little creatures like you, get out of the containers the shaman, priest and alike put you in.”

“So why would I give you my soul, if in 2000 this...KY Jelly thing will pop the jar anyway?”

“That’s Y2K and that’s a very good point, you caught me there. What if I could get you out a year early?”

“Oooooo, a WHOLE year. Naff deal.”

“It is a big deal. No one will know you’re out. You get a whole year of no body knowing you’re ‘oot and aboot’, as the Canadians would say.”

“Why would that be such a wondrous thing?”

“Because...drum roll please....NO ONE WILL KNOW YOU ARE OUT.......not even the big Alpha in the Sky.” 

No one will know I’m out. “And again why is this such a wondrous thing that if in a year, everyone will know I’m out?”

The eyes crossed, rolled upward, closed then opened again. “You get 365 days,” the voice said slowly like he was talking to some Joey. “Of nobody knowing you’re free. You could do anything to any one and no one could do anything about it!”

“Which sounds very nice,” I said equally as slow. “EXCEPT I WANNA GET OUT NOW!”

“I’m sorry, but NOW doesn’t work for me.” Mr Auntie Clarence Yellow Eyeballs said rather testily. “Oh by all that’s unholy, no wonder you’re in there. Why am I cursed with dealing with all the IDIOTS!?” Then a pocket watch suddenly appeared. “Look, I have a staff meeting in 5 minutes and the boss doesn’t like it when you’re late. So if you’re going to change your mind, do the old ‘shave and a haircut’ on the glass.” Then he looked rather cross, “but no fooling around. You so much do one little ‘let’s see if it works’ and I’ll have you listening to Edward Heath speeches for the next ten years.” 

Oh dear Alpha God, not that! 

“Now, give the whole thing some thought, gotta go, bye ta.” And with that, he was gone. Sat down and flipped open the Zippo snapping it to life. Only a year early. But nothing said I couldn’t have a few comforts in the mean time. Hmmmmm wonder if there were anyone else out there who’d make a better deal?

 

Hair of the Dog  
Tarah B Rushmore  
Hamilton County Office Bldg  
138 E. Court Street  
Third Floor Room 304  
Cincinnati, OH 45202  
16 March 1979 04:30 PM EST

I have a bachelors degree in Political Science from Florida State University, was on Deans List most of the four years too. Interned at Neil Sapps office when he was mayor of Tallahassee. He wanted me on staff after graduation. I’m on the National Guard logistics team for the whole of eastern Kentucky region two weekends a month. The battalion commander values my input. He is also supportive of my training to go to jump school at the end of April. Mark is too, in his own way....kinda sorta. 

But for the next six weeks, I’m a ‘Kelly Girl’ doing data entry of dog licenses at the county building in downtown Cincinnati. 

There are no jobs in this stupid town, unless you’re an engineer, maid in a hotel or know short hand. Oh or salesman. Mark is good at that. I swear the man could sell ice to Eskimos. Which is good, considering the $2.35 an hour I’m currently getting barely covers a weeks worth of groceries, let alone our mortgage payment. Every Sunday get the Cincinnati Post, turn to the ‘Want Ads’ (after the ‘Funnies’, Marmaduke just slays me) and circle the jobs that look like I could be qualified for, then type up a cover letter, to mail with a resume on Monday.

So far, out of the 50 resumes I’ve sent, have gotten 35 rejection letters, two interviews and used up $7.50 in stamps. Tried city hall for a job, but I’m not a Charterite (what the fuck is that?) and don’t know anyone in local politics, so that was a fast dead end. Mommy had suggested Kelly Services as a way of getting me out of the house and earning some money, also as a foot in the door. She had been a ‘Kelly Girl’, which is how she meet Daddy and couldn’t say enough nice things about it. Well, on the positive, it did get me out of the house. It also got me into downtown traffic at rush hour. Have to leave the house by 07:00 to make it in by 08:00. Not that it takes me the full hour to get there, it’s just finding a place to park in the municipal lot a few blocks from the County Office Building and then walking over that takes the time.

Apparently the county is on a project to get the last two years of paper licenses data entered and contracted with Kelly Services to provide some temps to do the work. So here is where 5 other women and I spend the day in windowless room on the third floor, in front of a Raytheon terminal watching the little orange letters on a black field spell out the name of dog owner, their address, breed and license number. The only thing that makes makes this job even tolerable is seeing what people name their dogs. The critters name is on the lower left hand corner of the license application. Do you know there are people in this burg who actually named their dog Rover? I kid you not. Killer, Mork, Gypsy were big ones and one imaginative soul who’s St Bernard was called Ruby Chewsday.

On Fridays, Mr Hayes the comptroller signs our time cards, so we can get them in the mail to the local Kelly Services office. Usually the pay check shows up in the mail box by Wednesday of the following week. It’s 04:30, turn off the terminal, pick up my purse, head down the hall to the stairwell and walk down. Walk up every morning too. Great for working on the calf and thigh muscles. Dropped the envelope with my time card in the mail box next to the front door of the building. 

Stopped at Remke’s on the way home for some hamburger and beer. Gotta do a bigger run Saturday morning we’re having a Saint Patricks Day party that same night. So gotta clean the house, make sure the bar is stocked as the other salesman and their mates from Marks office are coming. Geeze those guys drink like fish and smoke like chimneys. Also inviting the neighbors. Learned that trick from Mommy and Daddy, as long as you invite people five houses in any direction, can make all the noise you want cuz nobody will be home to call the police.

Pulled into the drive way, got out and walked down to the mail box....sigh....bills. Got the garage door open and pulled the car into my side of the garage. Got to get Mark to move that garden hose, have almost run over it three times this week. I move it and then he puts it right back, saying it’s convenient where it is. No, it’s not.

Walk into the kitchen and check the answering machine. There are two messages: “Hi Sweetheart, Mommy here. Give me a call about coming down for Daddy’s Birthday.” Oh crap, that’s right, it’s his birthday in another week. Daddy’s turning 50 and Mommy sez he’s moping about and looking at sports cars. Then the second call: “Hello, this is Hal Newton from the Georgia Pacific office in West Chester. We received your resume for the workers compensation clerk position and would like schedule an interview and physical. Please call me at your earliest convenience.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY ALPHA GOD! This is the first bite I’ve had in weeks! But what about jump school? If I get offered the job how can I go? Whoa there girl, hold your horses. You haven’t even called this guy back yet and obviously can’t do it till Monday. Need this job but can’t just give up the chance for Fort Benning either. Just simmer down.....I GOT AN INTERVIEW!

 

Oh Danny Boy  
Benny Lafitte  
Frankfort Army Hospital  
Labor Room Waiting Area  
Frankfort, West Germany  
17 March 1979  
23:11 Central European Time

My dear darlin Andrea is a beta of quality, breeding and true southern womanhood. She’s hosted a tea several times for the squadron officers ladies club without a drop being spilled except for letting a careful drop of gossip fall here and there. She is a rare and wondrous flower, who wouldn’t say shit if she had a mouth full.....Except in the delivery room where she is screeching and swearing like a stevedore on the docks of the port of Nawlins in the middle of a hurricane. 

“FILS DE PUTE!!!!” Get this pup outta me! Vous feet pue tan!”

We’d passed by down to Frankfort to celebrate Saint Patricks Day with the Citadel Alumi Association- Chapter of Germany at the Terrace Officers Club. Andrea was two weeks from her due date and had been looking forward to the party even if she couldn’t have any alcohol, when she started having contractions. Figured it was just those Brandon Hicks Contracting thins that Andrea was nattering.....talking....she was talking about....at night....when an alpha needs his shut eye to be able to fight those godless commie heathens that were barken at our door step ever morning. Merde.

Had sprung for a couple of nights at the Schlosshotel Kronberg outside of town, instead of getting a room at the post guest house. Nasty cockle roach no tell motel. But the Scholoss (that’s German for ‘castle’) Hotel be real nice. Andrea can rest and I can play a little golf with the fellas tomorrow morning, if’n we ain’t too hung over.

So we get there and are passing a good time, when suddenly my little darlin sez.... “did you hear a popping sound?” Then looks down at those maternity stockings her momma had spent tres boo coo bucks from Maison Blanche and prolly as much on postage to mail over here, suddenly get soaked.

“Mais la!” Andrea be surprised surprised. “I think my water just broke. Benny be a dear and go get the car.” Then, she went and found our hostess, apologized for having to leave this fine get together early, but then “oh and did you hear about Captain So and So’s mate” (whisper whisper) “sigh poor dear, bless her heart. A little bit more punch please Honey, I’m as dry as Natchitoches Parish on a Sunday morning. Oh and how far’s the hospital, think I might just need to pass by. Oh, it’s on the other side of that big cemetery? Why thank you Sir, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

We got there toot sweet with Andrea puff’en and blow’en....oh wait, that was just me. Think she was just sitting there saying ‘Baby don’t blow yourself faint....you’re gonna go have the vapors. Pull the car over...Benny...pull the.....YA DUMB COONASS PULL THE CAR OVER!” She reached a foot over and mashed the break. “Chinese fire drill.” Andrea flung open the door, waddled out, came over the drivers side and pushed me over to the passengers seat. “Merde! Do I have to do everything myself?”

Ieeeeeeee, I be a sad cake. Why can I go toe to toe out with any man jack alive, take command of any situation but am shaken and breathless like a virgin on their mating night with my mate in labor?” But we do pass by the hospital, find a parking spot and Andrea just marches up and even a-fore she busts through the doors, is hollering for a nurse and complaining about how her best dress got a wet spot on it. I pull my head outta my ass and my mind from Arkansas, to catch up a moment or two later.

The nurse said I could go into the delivery room if’n I wanted. But considering the yell’en I’ve heard come’in from there and my mate’s got a temper like a gator with a tooth ache, just thanked em and said I be just fine right here in the waiting room. Most of the magazines in there was older then Moses....at least The Solders Magazine was from this month.

It be nigh on close to midnight when the swearing stops and a the nurse comes out and sez “Lt Lafitte, you have a son.” Go in and find Andrea laying there on the table all tired out, but smiling with the fine work she do. Our son is red and rumpled as a boiled mudbug and screaming he little head off, layin there on his mommas chest. 

She looked up, “bienvenue mon Lt Fafitte.” Andrea planted a gentle kiss on his little head. “Mon pette Danny, this is your papere, yes yes.”  

“Danny? Thought we settled on Jules. Jules Knox Lafitte.” Reached over and touched one of his tiny hands. He’s so soft and fragile....but oh, the boy hold on tight. Le Bon Dieu blessed me with a boy, tears come to my eyes and it busts my heart wide open with love.

“He come out look’en like a Danny name first, not a Jules, him.” She sighed sleepily, “he’s Danny Jules Knox Lafitte.” In a bit, the nurse chased me out, saying that Andrea and OUR SON (that do sound good) needed their rest. Not knowing what else to do, I passed on by to the party at the officers club. There was still a lot of people there lifting a glass to the saint, now I really gonna give em something to celebrate.

Walked into the room and climbed up on the bar. “MY MATE JUST GAVE BIRTH TO A BOY!” Lean over, took the bottle of Irish whiskey out of the bartenders hand and up ended a good lot down my gullet. “This round is on me!” (Andrea gonna kill me dead when the club bill comes in) A cheer went up and the fellas bellied up to the bar. Yeah, this be good night, gumbo ya ya. “TO MY SON! DANNY JULES KNOX LAFITTE!”

 

Yeah, kinda went crazy with the notes....so here goes:

A saints day is not the day they were born, but the day they died. So, happy death day Saint Patrick.

Amsterdam, NY is a small city in upstate New York about 30 miles west of the capital of Albany. Known as the ‘Rug City’ for the number of rug mills there at one time, was home to Mohawk Carpets, until the manufacturing moved south in the late 1960’s and corporate office in the 1980’s. It was also home to Coleco, best known at the time for making vinyl swimming and kiddie pools, later for Cabbage Patch Kid dolls and the Adam Computer. On a side note, Amsterdam was the birth place of Kirk Douglas and the first Miss Teen USA.

Gloversville, NY, another small city in upstate NY. At one time known for its tanneries and glove making factories.

Edmond Hoyle (1672 – 29 August 1769) was a writer best known for his works on the rules and play of card games. The phrase "according to Hoyle" came into the language as a reflection of his generally perceived authority on the subject; since that time, use of the phrase has expanded into general use in situations in which a speaker wishes to indicate.....an acknowledged authority. -Wikipedia

Know when to hold em....of course is from the song, The Gambler. Written by Don Schlitz in 1976 and recorded by several artists until it became a country and pop hit with Kenny Rogers in November of 1978.

For Miss Alice, you may not have won the dad lottery but you went full on aces with the Grandpa lottery.

And yes, I have the brochure and old post cards of the hotel. Ebay is a wondrous thing.

In 1979 when most hotel rooms ran from 20.00 to 50 dollars, $120 for a room was a fortune. Or in todays dollars, around 400 bucks for the night.

Jerry Phelps was my uncle. He was a tank repair man during the war and had the craziest stories of his time in Italy. Uncle Jerry is gone now after a long fruitful life. But wanted to let him have one more moment on a bright sunny day in Naples, Italy. My dad was in the Navy and yeah, he survived two ship sinkings and being blown out of a landing craft. 

Richards Wild Irish Rose is an alcoholic beverage produced by Centerra Wine Company, which is part of the Constellation Brands organization. It was introduced in 1954 and currently sells about two million cases annually. The brand is available in 13.9% and 18% alcohol by volume.-Wikipedia It’s cheap, it’s bumwine. Best friend who is one of my readers and shows up in the story as Henry Katz bought a small bottle of the stuff for us to try. It's actually not as bad as I first thought, if you are not drinking a lot of it. ‘Rosie with a skirt’ means he wants Wild Irish Rose in a bag.

The Mouse that Roared: a 1959 British film based on Leonard Wibberley's novel The Mouse That Roared from 1955. It’s about the tiny fictional country of The Duchy of Grand Fenwick, who after having its national economy which was based on its wine almost bankrupted by a cheap California knock off, declared war on the United States. Figuring they’d invade, lose and get financial aid. Instead they win with the capture of the Q-Bomb and not only get financial aid, a sable coat for the Dutchess of Grand Fenwick (in the book) but world peace. Since they were in possession of the most deadly weapon in the world (which was a dud, but don’t tell anyone) which made them the most powerful nation in the world.

https://culinaryginger.com/soup-la-biere-beer-soup/  
Daar Kikker Je van op (this will frog you up): West Flemish expression for ‘this will make you feel better’.

Tan: slang for the British army because of the colors of their uniforms

Hun: a slur used in Northern Ireland during ‘The Troubles’ for the British Army.

Fack: fuck

Boggin sleg: Mick called her a dirty slut

On the 22nd of March 1979 The Provisional IRA detonated 24 bombs in various locations across Northern Ireland. 22 of the bombs were directed at banks. The largest explosion was caused by a 50 lb bomb at Dungannon Bank that demolished the bank building and damaged all the buildings in the same street -Wikipedia. Also on that day, the British Ambassador Richard Sykes and his aid were shot dead at the Hague, the IRA claimed responsibility.

Preomerine: my version of Premarine an early hormone therapy for menopause. It took its name from the words PREgnant MARes urINE. Gross, I know. Well, considering penicillin is just moldy bread, why couldn’t there be something made from horse piss. 

Laura Ashley: I really don’t dislike the designer or the brand but at this time period the clothes had a very floral, English garden mommy vibe. Or the way it was interpreted in the United States, as ‘prairie chic’ with Gunny Sax. Laura Ashley (7 September 1925 – 17 September 1985) was a Welsh fashion designer and businesswoman. She originally made furnishing materials in the 1950s, expanding the business into clothing design and manufacture in the 1960s. The Laura Ashley style is characterized by RomanticEnglish designs — often with a 19th-century rural feel-Wikipedia  
   
Nick and Nora are of course are the urbane Nick and Nora Charles from The Thin Man Series by Dashnall Hammett. The hardboiled Mike Hammer and his secretary Velda were the creations of Micky Spillane.

Elliott’s car: https://classiccars.com/listings/view/1219078/1968-ford-fairlane-for-sale-in-stratford-new-jersey-08084 

The General Certificate of Education (GCE) Ordinary Level, also called the O-level or O level, was a subject-based academic qualification.....the O-level would act as a pathway to the new, more in-depth and academically rigorous A-level (Advanced Level) -Wikipedia

A batman or an orderly is a soldier or airman assigned to a commissioned officer as a personal servant. The U.K. English term is derived from the obsolete bat, meaning "pack saddle" (from French bât, from Old French bast, from Late Latin bastum -Wikipedia

Sloanie (or occasionally a Sloane Ranger) is a stereotypical young upper-middle or upper class person who pursues a distinctive fashionable lifestyle. (Example of the time: Lady Diana Spencer -pre-marrage)  The term is a portmanteau of "Sloane Square", a location in Chelsea, London, famed for the wealth of residents and frequenters, and the television character The Lone Ranger.-Wikipedia. In America we would’ve called them ‘preppies’.

Honey was a monthly magazine for young women in the United Kingdom...launched in April 1960. The cover tagline introduced in October 1960 read "For the teens and twenties" - by 1962 this had become "Young, gay and get-ahead." At its height, Honey sold about 250,000 copies a month. Sales slid in the 1980s however and....the last issue was dated September 1986-Wikipedia

Branston is a British food brand best known for the original Branston Pickle, a jarred pickled chutney first made in 1922 in the village of Branston near Burton upon Trent, Staffordshire by Crosse & Blackwell-Wikipedia 

Come to a sticky end: British slang for having an unpleasant and sudden death. 

Pop one’s clogs: old British slang for dying. Pop was a slang word for pawn, so the dead persons family would take the persons possessions (including their clogs) to the pawn shop to sell. Think of the scene from Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come showed Scrooges housekeeper and her friends were pawning his sheets, night shirt and bed curtains. Yup, Scrooge had ‘Popped his clogs’. 

Pins: slang for legs. Lorraine was always proud of her shapely legs.

 During the 1970s and early ’80s, Lola Falana was the glittery spokeswoman for Strip sizzle who appeared repeatedly on The Tonight Show, Merv Griffin and The Mike Douglas Show. She was remarkably beautiful, but Falana had talent, too. A disciple of Sammy Davis Jr., she was a soulful and sexy singer who, at her peak, regularly sold out the Copa Room at the Sands. In the late-’70s, she was offered a contract by the Aladdin to appear 20 weeks a year for $100,000 a week. That made her, at the time, the highest-paid female performer in Vegas history. - https://lasvegasweekly.com/news/2012/dec/13/25-greatest-headliners-las-vegas-history/ 

Chokey – The punishment block where offenders are held in isolation. Stems from the Hindu word for lock-up, “cauki” 

Naff: British slang for tacky

Joeys: An imbecile. Derived from the name Joey Deacon, a physically handicapped (cerebral palsy) guest on a British children's TV program called Blue Peter in the 1970s; Consequently his name was cruelly adopted by children as an insult. 

Edward Heath: British Prime Minister from 1970 to 1974. You can thank him for getting the UK into the EU. A cold disagreeable man who had fewer words then Calvin Coolidge and used them to worse ends, was booted from office by his own party, supporters and friends in favor of Harold Wilson.

Yup, that was me data entering dog licenses and there really was a Ruby Chewsday. In New York it was done at the Department of Agriculture and Markets, in Ohio, dog licensing was done at the county level, which is why Tarah is at the county building. In the late 70’s early 80’s nobody was hiring, unless you were an engineer, in sales, wanted to be a hotel maid or could do short hand. When I left active service in the early 80’s, ran into this problem, so became a ‘Kelly Girl’ for two years, before landing my first full time job. For those two years, I data entered, warehoused Caterpillar tractor parts and sat on a push line for the Coleco’s Adam computer.

The Charter Party, or the Charter Committee, is a minor political party, the third party of Cincinnati, Ohio. Members of this party are called Charterites. Last Charterite mayor was elected in 1983.

Remke Markets’s Biggs: is a chain of supermarkets in the metropolitan Cincinnati and northern Kentucky areas. Beginning in 1897 as a meat market in Covington, KY by William Remke, the supermarket as grown into 14 locations in both Ohio and Kentucky.

Fils De Pute: French swearing, ‘Son of a Whore’

Vous Feet pue tan: Cajun French for basicly, You Goddam Son of A Bitch!

That’s BRAXTON Hicks contractions, Benny

Maison Blanche: was a large upscale department store in New Orleans that opened in 1897. The store is now closed but the building still exists as the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

https://schlosshotel-kronberg.com/en/ yeah, it’s real nice

Mud bug: crayfish

Papere: cajun French for father

Le Bon Dieu: the Good Lord  
Bienvenue: welcome


	9. In Hot Water, Hot Sex and Hot Curry

Welcome back to 1979. Thank you everyone for your kind words and visits to this little world gone by. Warnings are the standard bad language and period attitudes

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK MY CAR IS MAYBE IN THE AZORES!? It’s Holy Week and my life has turned into an unholy mess. I’m five days overdue, but Dr. Singh the obstetrician isn’t worried. (Sure, he’s not worried cuz he’s not the one who’s PREGNANT!) Doc said if Ulysses hasn’t come out by Good Friday, he’d schedule me for a C-section on Holy Monday. In the mean time he suggested hot baths, sex and anything with curry in it. Hot as I could stand it. Well it’s Friday and let me tell you, it hasn’t been so good. “YOU SAID IT DEFINATELY MAYBE WAS IN GREECE OR TURKEY!”

I’ve got the Braxton Hicks from Hell, wanna cry if someone looks at me funny and have tried everything Dr Singh suggested. Also after talking to Tasha Barnes and what worked for her-shake the pup out. Which is a great idea....if you don’t drive a Trabant. Drove down every cobble stone street in town to stir him up but all that did was leave a trail of parts and the back bumper lying in the road. Ate curried ketchup on everything and did take out from the local Indian joint. Oh yes, let’s have more indigestion then I already have. Took so many hot showers and bathes that the apartment resembled a steam bath.

Wore out ‘Spurs’(have to order a new one from the Adam and Eve catalog) went through every lesson I could think of with Jesse and Ben, singly and as a group exercise. Then finally chucked the ‘you gotta date me first’ rule out the window with Dean. So for one night lifted Jesses curfew (he’d been grounded, had to be home after school every day after dention and no hanging out with his friends for three months) gave him five bucks and sent him off to the movies with Ben. “Be back by midnight or it’s ‘pumpkinsville’ for the both of you.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked as I just about chewed the zipper off the front of his fatigue pants. “I mean we did agree to....”

“Shut up, fuck now, date later!” Yanked those pants to his ankles so fast you’d thought the pockets were full of lead fishing weights. The Fruit of the Looms went next and wrapped around the ankles of his combat boots like a straight jacket. “Timber,” poked him in the stomach and Dean fell back on the bed. I hopped on and grabbed hold of his...eh hem....’steering column’. 

“Okay. Hey there, careful when you’re pulling on that thing. It ain’t a Slinky ya know.” He’d stopped complaining immediately after I straddled his hips, teed him up and then sank down. Letting his dick push through the warm wet channel, taking a few thrusts before the knot almost caught (oh that hurts sooooo good!) before finally catching. Okay so the first time was more ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’. But that’s not without it’s charms too. Quick, down and dirty, we both want it, I need it and he’s got the goods to make things happen. The next time was a bit slower, more give and take and looking at my needs and wants.

Dean wobbled off a few hours later on those bowlegs of his (after a proper shower of course) with a big grin. “Damn Cas, we gotta try that in the back seat of the Impala. I love late pregnancy.” (Glad someone does) Oh yeah, let’s give Lisa one more reason to hate me, like she didn’t have enough already. Course, the only thing all the sex did was give Ulysses all kinds of essence to do a mean flamenco on my rib cage. Jesus Christ, I’ve got bruises on my bruises.

Jeff is teething and miserable. So everyone in the house is miserable. “Papa!” He’d sob and hang on to my leg when I’d be handing him off to Rufus in the morning, after being awake half the night. With a teenager in the house had stopped keeping any booze around and was trying all the over the counter teething remedies. Even blowing scent in his face, Jeff would still wake up a few hours later crying. The erstwhile bread man solved this immediate problem by taking out his hip flask and a cookie. He’d take a swig, then wet his finger with the whiskey and swab Jeff’s gums. So between the booze and cookie, my son would calm down enough to sit down in his box on the passengers seat. “Aby!” He’d hollar. The wooden box was painted black with a beat up pie tin nailed on for a steering wheel, “pala! Roooommmm, rooommmm! Hole wat a shaken go on! Bats! Sonnofa Bitch!” 

There are times I wonder how Jeff can pronounce perfectly the things I don’t want him to say, while the others I’d wish he would....he won’t or it comes out in halves. Also have to speak to Dean about what he says in the car because little ears are listening and big mouths repeating.

It was moments like that where I wanted to take Rufus Turners flask and make like it was Maxwell House Coffee, good to the last drop, right down my throat. But no, no booze for Castiel.....until after the pup is born. After that, I’m going to find the nearest Class Six store and drink it. All of it!

Back to the week that was and wished it wasn’t, to continue on with Friday. Fort and Krew, my double digit midgets have now become single digit midgets and are skating on their duties like a pair of delinquent Dorothy Hamills. “I don’t give a rats ass if you are going back ‘to the world’ tomorrow,” (they’re actually flying out in 9 days) had them in the Second Platoon office so Sargeant Brown and I could counsel....screw that....read the riot act to em. “For the next 5 days, you’ll show up on time and do your job.”

You can’t do anything to us,” Krew mouthed off. “We’re so short, we can barely see over your desk.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Fort. “Not one little thing.”

“Insubordination,” Sargeant Brown smiled sweetly, as he read from their personnel folders. “AWOL, damaging government property and that’s just the stuff we caught you at. You two have racked up quite a list of adverse personnel actions. Counseling sessions, reduction in grade, loss of pay and that’s just in the last five months. And for some reason those things just haven’t done the trick to make you two come to Jesus. You’re just this side of a General Discharge and a cunt hair away from a Dishonorable.” He set the folders on the desk, wide open so that they and I had a view of the multitude of offenses they’d been err to. Geeze, and here I thought I could be a fuck up. These guys had me beat by a country mile.

“Go ahead.” Krew had chronic head up ass and didn’t know when keep his trap shut. “Who cares about what kinda discharge I get?”

“Any future employer worth a damn will ask what kind you got.” I commented looking up from the fascinating read their personnel folders provided. “Fort, you rolled a gamma goat? Damn,” This is a six wheel drive all terrain vehicle with big tires, no muffler and designed to go anywhere, it could even swim. Kinda sort. “It takes an act of Congress to flip one of those suckers and yet you did it. That is fucked up. That fuck is so upped it might never get down again.” 

“I’ll just tell em I got an honorable, it’s not like they’re gonna check.” Again PFC Krew had verbal diarrhea that no amount of Pepto Dismal could cure, but Fort this time was quiet and had a thoughtful look on his face. 

“Yeah, sure. Tell yourself that.” Sargeant Brown got in Krews face. “And when they call Army Records out in Saint Louis, Missouri and oh they will. That’s when they will find out you lied.” Then the good NCO showed his teeth. It was an impressive display of pearly whites and glittering gold. “My little brother left the army about a year ago WITH an honorable discharge. You know what? He’s coming back in. There are no jobs out there, or nothing that pays anything. Economy’s bad son, real bad. And because if you leave the army voluntarily, you can’t collect unemployment insurance.”

“I know people,” Krew began. 

“So did my brother,” Brown sat on the edge of my desk. “Didn’t help. Not when you got a mate and pups who need food on the table, clothes on their backs and a decent roof over their heads. Even if you’re a single fella, do you really wanna go home to live in your old room at Mommy and Daddy’s house? Under their rules like you’re still some kinda dumb teenager?” Then he said in a low ‘Dutch Uncle’ voice, “how’re you supposed to get laid proper if you don’t have any money and the only bed you got is the one with the Yogi Bear bed sheets? Who’d wanna to get fucked on those?” Now they were both looking more then a little thoughtful and slightly appalled.

“Now here’s your game plan.” I now heaved myself up out of the chair. “For the next five days, you WILL make sure your quarters are clean, bunk’s made, fall out for formation and get to work on time AND WORK. On the sixth, seventh and eighth day, you’ll go through out processing, pack your ole kit bag and smile cuz on day nine you’ll get on that ‘Freedom Bird’ back to The World. Where I honestly wish you well, because you will be someone elses problem. Dismissed.” They quickly came to attention, saluted and left. Turned to Sgt Brown, “think they pulled their head out of their asses long enough to hear all that?”

Brown picked up the folders, “Maybe Fort. But Krew? Nah, that boy’s more screwed up then Hogans Goat.”

Knew I shouldn’t have called Bremerhaven after the ‘discussion’ with the midgets but am getting sick of driving the Trabi and being the butt of jokes because of that stupid little car. “Need a crowbar? Hey look, it’s the Crisco Kid-fat in the can! Where’s the wind up key? Does it’s momma know it’s out? How many mice do you have under the hood?!” Goddamn commie car. It even turned up on the roof of the company building once. Having seen, been in on or being on the ass end of Gabe’s pranks over the years, had to admit, this one was impressive. Also promised death and destruction if who ever pulled off this stunt, if they didn’t get the Trabi back down IN ONE PIECE AND UNDAMAGED in five minutes. Knew enough to add those caveats, when you have Gabriel Novac as a brother you learn quick not to be too literal. 

“We’re definitely almost positive your vehicle didn’t go to Turkey,” had worked my way back up to Major Shelbourne at Military Traffic Management Command again. “However, there was a report from the transport office in the Azores that a car matching the description of yours was off loaded at the Praia de Victoria, Tercira island.”

“Well, can’t you get it back?”

“The Air Force is having problems finding the those off load and pick up forms. Apparently, they’ve been misfiled.”

“They lost em?!” Oh my bloody goddamn back. “But it’s an island, that SHOULD make it easier to find.”

“You’d think that, but the VW Bug is a very popular vehicle there. But don’t worry, you now have the combined efforts of the army and air force working on finding your behalf. The Major said cheerfully. (Yippie Skippie) “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”meaning ‘get the fuck off my phone.” 

“Nothing Sir,” other then having a double heaping helping of ‘eat shit and die’. Was half a mind of picking up the phone and calling John, Dean or now General Pauly...whose card I now have. He thinks I have moxie (a perfectly horrid tasting soda, but what the hell) and would like to have John and I over for dinner some night when it’s convenient. There are times I wonder how life could have gotten this schizo. But resist the temptation, no let’s just let this play out on it’s own accord.

Being that it’s Friday and Ulysses the little bastard has decided that he likes it where he is, have put in a call to Dr Singh, he’s got me down to come in bright and early Monday for that C-Section. Unless of course by some fluke of nature (or just my luck) I have the pup tomorrow or Sunday. That phone call over, now have to tell Granny Pants I’m going to be on maternity leave for the next 6 weeks. Hey, the dude should be happy. I had the option to go out on maternity leave 4 weeks ago but didn’t. I could’ve taken it easy, got rest, ate better and all the things Dr Singh told me to do.

Uh huh. Sure, like that’s going to happen. Not when Jeff has now skipped the walking part of this program and has gone straight to running. Am now making him wear a harness and leash to keep the little beggar under control so he doesn’t get away from me. Then there’s the have to do better then everyone else just to stay even-especially when that toe cheese from Third Platoon is Granny Pants ‘golden boy’.

At nine months plus am really not getting much sleep. No position in bed feels right, Ulysses is kicking and Jeff is crying. The bags under my eyes are the size of foot lockers. Oh lets toss in that I feel fat, ugly and I drip from every end and fart and belch and my ass itches and.....wow, I fit right in with most of the alphas at the 85th. The only thing I can’t do is scratch is my balls, but they’ll be back in no time once Ulysses is born. I miss my balls and want my dick where I can see it. Hate sitting to pee like a chick.

Well, no time like the present to go see the Captain. Heaved myself up and carefully lumbered down the stairs to the First Sargeant and Company Clerks office. Thank the Alpha God, Top Kick was out, he’s been staring at me a bit more then usual this week. Didn’t know whether he was just really curious on how a human being could get that big or had other things in mind. Didn’t know, didn’t care. “Excuse me, Specialist Chickadee?”

Spec 4 Chickadee was sitting a his desk pounding away furiously at his typewriter. “He’s in, been expecting you and I’m working on your leave forms as we speak...........Sir.” All this without even looking up. “Knock, then go in.” Damn, he’s good.

Tapped on the timbers and then went though. A line of floor mats had now been added between the oriental carpet covered in plastic and the entrance to the door. Wonder what got tracked in that gave Granny Pants conniptions. “Lt Novac reporting Sir.” I snapped to attention and saluted. Probobly looked like I should be in a Benny Hill sketch at this point.

“At ease Lieutenant,” Captain Austin returned my salute, after that is, he finished watering his palm tree. “What can I do for you today?” As if he didn’t know.

“I’m requesting maturity leave starting this coming Monday April 16th to return the 21st of May.”

He sighed, like it was some BIG inconvenience to him. “Wish you could come back sooner but then again, you didn’t take the 4 weeks of per-maternity leave, which helped. Sergeants Brown and Sunder will just have to pick up the slack in the mean time.” Oh please, don’t make it sound like I’ll be skating for those next six weeks.

“I will do my best to make it back on time and ready for duty Sir.” Just gimme my goddam forms to sign so I can get the fuck outta here. Have paper work up the wazoo that needs to be finished before I leave for a month and a half. On the upside to all this, Fort and Krew will be gone by the time I get back, thank the Alpha God! Specialist Chickadee came in about that time with the leave forms, Granny Pants read through them, taking for fucking ever, like it was the deed to the Brooklyn Bridge. Till finally he put his ‘John Hancock’ on it and then passed it over for me to sign. Skimmed the form, uh-huh, uh-huh..yup...dates are.....“excuse me Sir, there’s a bit of a mistake. The start date for my leave shows today.”

“Yup,” Captain Austin leaned back in chair and smiled. “They do indeed. Go home.” Don’t get it. Talk about skitzo, half the time the guy rides my ass over the least little thing and the other half, cuts me slack. Times I don’t know whether to shit or go blind. “Will expect you back here at Oh Dark 30 on 21 May Lt Novac.”

“Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” So with that, I’m dismissed and Granny Pants takes out a pair of small scissors and starts pruning that blasted palm tree. Go back upstairs, finish up the most urgent of the paper work, confer with Brown and Lilly Sunder, and then walk out of the 85th. Free and clear for the next six weeks. Will be taking Jeff and Jessie on the train up to Bielefeld tonight to visit Jenny and Lewiston for the holiday. Jessie is on Easter Break from school until Monday the 23rd of April so he’d be staying all that week and coming back the day before he has to come back to class. 

Head over to the Harlem Bakery to collect Jeff, to find there was a line of people going out the door, down the stairs and on to the sidewalk. Folks are buying Easter cakes and bread for their holiday tables. Maybe I should’ve put in an order for an Oster Kirschtorte-Cherry Cake to bring on the train. Nah, would get squished considering how crowded the trains are over any holiday. Maybe can find a local bakery to get one once we’re there.

Went around to the side door in the alley and came into the mad house that was the kitchen of the Harlem Bakery on Good Friday. “GET THE BUNTER OSTERKUCHEN OUTOF THE OVEN BEFORE IT BURNS! OR ICH WERIDE DICH OHNE SSCHAUM RASIEREN! Tina bellowed like a Fort Knox drill sergeant. The oldest of the Turner pups was terrorizing the kitchen staff into action with her loud voice, size and sheer force of will. Her mate Franz just kind of cowered, kept his head down and was at the sink scrubbing bread trays like his life depended on it. Considering his mate was Tina the Terrible, yeah it did.

Flagged down Betty as she was rushing by carrying a bowl of marzipan. “Just here to pick up Jeff, is he upstairs?”

“Yeah, he’s up there with the rest of the pups, Dad is trying to keep them all amused and out of the way. This time of year is just nuts, great for business but rough on family. Stairs are over there.” Went up to find Rufus asleep on the davenport and Jeff in the middle of a napping puppy pile on the living room rug. These were but a few of the Turners grand pups that ranged in age from 3 months to 17 years old. The current crop of the youngest Turners, Washingtons, Beckers, Fuchs and several other last names (Tina was on her third mating) were here on the floor. They ranged the color spectrum from almost blue black to light toffee.

Jeff was cuddled with Betty’s daughter Odette, whom he called ‘Dette’. She had trouble wrapping her mouth around ‘Jeff’ so he was ‘F’. Which of course led to Rufus calling him ‘F Troop’. Jeff and Odette had become fast friends, so if you found one you found the other.

Had to spread my feet to bend over, hold my breath (oh that felt like someone stuck a knife up my ass) and picked him up. Odette, however had other ideas. She’s in the middle of the ‘Terrible Twos’ and every word that came out of her mouth was either ‘no’ or ‘mine’.

“NO!” She’d woken up in time to see HER friend being taken away, so she hung on and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “No take F! Mine!” Course that’s when Jeff wakes up and hangs on to Odette.

“NO! Bad Papa!” Great, my little 95th percentile man galloped early into the ‘terribles’. If this ‘bad papa’ shit keeps up, this’s gonna earn him a swat on the ass double quick.

“F Troop!” Ooooo, that old devil alpha sergeants voice. Looked over to see Rufus sitting up and taking command of the situation. Not good to wake an NCO up from his nap time, especially when a solder learns to sleep quick anywhere on anything. “Not bad papa. Odette turn that boy loose.” The girl knew that what Opa said goes, so she reluctantly let loose her ‘kung fu grip’. “Troop, you better say sorry to Papa. Say sorry.”

“NO!.....Irv.....bats.....Sorry.” How does Rufus do that? Usually it takes a few more ‘Irv’s’ and ‘Bats’ before the ‘sorry’ comes out for me.

“Whooo, thank you,” got Jeff to his feet, found his coat and shoes and got them on. “Don’t know what gets into him sometimes.”

“Boy’s an alpha,” Sgt Turner got to his feet slowly. “Da....darn...cranky knee. Hel...heck...getting old. Anyway, the pup’s an alpha. He’s gonna be testing you from now on, that boy needs a firm hand and you can’t let him get away it cuz if you do. You’re the one who’s gonna be in a world o hurt.” 

“Oh definitely will be working to keep that from happening,” I said with vehemence. “Last thing this world needs is another knothead.” What I need is a full time adult alpha at home to teach this boy right from wrong. Jesse is doing his best, but as a teenager, he still has a ways to go himself. Especially after that little stunt of running off to Paris with Ben AND TAKING JEFF WITH THEM! It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m......almost over it. The boys are going to the concert, would’ve been a shame to waste the money, BUT.....Lisa is going with them as chaperone. Ha. Ha. Ha. Serves you little punks right.

Okay, back to the business at hand, let Rufus know also they would be having a week off from sitting as I’d be going into the hospital on this coming Monday to have a C-section and that John (meaning Mary) would be watching Jeff for the week as I’d be having my laying in. Well, she had to get to know him sometime and if that Bitch does ANYTHING to hurt him or treat him other then the perfect little person he is, will hunt her down and NOBODY will EVER find the body.

Got the pup out of the bakery without any further whining and into the back of the Trabi. Found it easier just to stick him in the cargo area as I put a heavy piece of packing felt on the floor. If I had to slam on the breaks, he’d just roll into the pillows that were up against the seats. Not like I was ever going all that fast in this thing anyway. Which is why we’re taking the train up to Bielefeld. Returned to Florida Loop and went upstairs. Jesse had come in right after school, packed his suitcase and was ready to go.

We took a taxi to the train station instead of the car. It wasn’t that I was afraid someone would steal the Trabi, no one would be that merciful. No, was more afraid it wouldn’t start and didn’t want to try to pop the clutch in the train station parking lot in the middle of the night. Got everyone wrangled into the back of the big ole Mercedes cab (old joke-what do people in Germany call a Mercedes Benz? Taxi!) and then settled in myself. Let my head fall back for a moment, tired, just so very tired.

Thought I’d just closed my eyes for a second, when.....“Cas,” Jesse was gently shaking my arm. “We’re here and the driver wants three Marks for the trip.” Huh? What!? “Jeff, get your finger out of papa’s nose.” Oh crap, I must have dozed off. Took a booger covered finger out of my left nostril before reaching for my wallet, fished out the notes along with a tip and paid the man.

Wallowed out of the car as the driver took our bags out of the trunk and set them on the sidewalk. Okay, took stock of the situation. Keys, wallet, ID, mating papers, 3 suitcases, diaper bag, pistol, picnic supper, 2 pups, leash and harness. Think we got this trip by the ass.

The Kaiserslautern Hauptbahnhof was a mad house of people trying to get some where fast in as slow a manner (but efficient, they are Germans after all) as possible. Had come down here a day or so before to pick up our tickets to head north, which was a good thing because the line at the ticket counter was longer then the one at the American Express office on a pay day. Our train was scheduled to leave at 18:00 hours and knowing the German transit system, they were not a woof’en. So, being it was almost that now, wove our way through the crowd to the gate and on to the train platform.

“Ihren fahrschein, bitte” the conductor at the door to our car asked. He looked at our tickets, found we were at the right place for second class (I couldn’t afford the first class coach), stamped our tickets and let us aboard. Side stepped down the aisle, found our seats, pushed the suitcases under em and sat down. Now we have a five hour trip in front of us. If everything goes right and we make the connections in Mannhiem and Cologne, the train should be pulling into Bielefeld Central Station around 23:00. Had phoned Jenny ahead of time, so either she or Lewiston will be meeting us at the station. 

Now have to stay awake because our first transfer is in about an hour at the Mannhiem Hauptbahnhof. With a screech of air brakes and bump of the cars, the train pulled forward down the track and into the lengthening shadows of a cool spring evening. Winter had finally let go of southern Germany and recently on any sunny day, you could see fish belly white Germans basking their pale selves in the local park.

“You guys hungry? Know I am.” Just as I reached into the diaper bag for the sandwiches and soda, course that’s when my stomach and Ulysses teamed up with a rumble and tremendous kick to the ribs. “Oh yeah,” I gasped, bent double. “He’s hungry.”

Jesse took charge of the situation. “Here, let me take care of Jeff, while you get yourself right. Or go to the loo.” That’s my good little alpha First. These were the days when the lessons and instinctual need to care (protect, protect, protect) ‘his’ omega and pup shone through. Could not be prouder of him. 

Apparently others saw it too because an elderly alpha man tottered by on his cane, reached over and tussled Jesses hair. “Gutte knabe,” (good boy) he croaked. “Helfende der Höllensakrament.” (Helping the Hells Sacrament)

I froze, balling my fists until the nails were digging painfully into my palms. Know that old people forget, that they use words not meant as an insults but as common speech, but the painful meaning is still there. ‘Hells sacrament’ in German is what ‘slick’ is in English. It’s what my kind was called over here before the war, in the camps and apparently even now. I know that the old guy really didn’t mean any harm BUT it still hurt.

Waited until the old dude tottered off before saying, “Jesse don’t you EVER use the word that old man said.”

“Höllensakrament?”

“Yes, it means ‘Hells sacrament’. That’s basicly the German version of slick.”

Jesse was appalled. “Why would he call you that?”

Sighed, how to explain this? “Because to him, he didn’t see it was a bad word. In his day, it was just a descriptive term and obviously either no one has corrected him or worse, it’s still in use.” Just like a friends mom used to call her oldest raggy coat ‘brudny stary zydoc’. Said it was Polish for ‘dirty old man’. Found out later, AFTER I got my ass whipped by the neighbor in Panama the one who taught me how to shoot and was Meyer Lansky’s body guard, ‘bruny stary zydoc’ was ‘dirty old jew’. “Words can hurt, even if we don’t mean em to.”

“So I have to be careful as to what I say?”

“Yes, but not to the point where you’re afraid to say anything because it will offend someone. Some folks will try to make you feel guilty for saying stuff you believe in like duty, honor, country. Never feel guilty about those. Or family. Because in the end, your family is all you have and at times and you’ve seen it with your own Mum and Dad, duty will have to come first even over that.” Jesse nodded as he broke off bits of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and fed them to Jeff, who was in the seat between us.

Course it didn’t take long for the inevitable to happen. Really should’ve known better then to pack PB and J sandwiches, but they were quick, easy and wouldn’t spoil. But they also turned into the worst diaper filling mess (considering this is Jeff and anything he eats turns into a gooey toxic sludge that any foreign government would want to get its hands on...figuratively speaking of course) and the only thing worse were oysters and hot sauce.

Picked up my son and made a bee-line for the mens room. Course passed that old guy who called me a ‘Hells sacrament’ and slowed down just enough to find out (accidentally) he must have been a World War One veteran. “GASANGRIFF!!!!! GASANGRIFF!!!!” He was hollering and thrashing about looking for the gas mask that wasn’t there. Yeah, I can be a mean little son of a bitch when I’m of a mind. On the other hand, felt really bad for the mens room attendant (poor guy had to open a window) and made sure it was a d-mark that was dropped into his dish. 

Well, we made it to Mannheim, changed trains and all without too much fuss and bother. Again found our seats in second class and got settled in. Jeff fell asleep curled up in his seat, Jesse took out a book (Spock Must Die, not a bad choice) and I just watched the darkened country side pass by. Got an hour and a half to kill before we hit Cologne. Will just close my eyes for a second, just long enough to get my thoughts put together.......

 

“Captain Novac!” Huh what? Oh shit, am sitting in the Provost Marshalls office. Or at least that’s what it says on the desk name plate. ‘Col Thomas Ellisworth’-Provost Marshall. Look around quick for Zachariah, nope. Looks like it’s just me again.

“Uh, yes sir?” Oh what now?

“Do you have any idea the damage your pups caused?”

Oh shoot. Is this a trick question? “Um, no Sir.”

From the look on the Colonels face, that was obviously the wrong answer. “THEY BURNED UP HALF OF THE NORMANDY DROP ZONE!”

Normandy drop zone, Normandy drop......oh shit. This is Fort Bragg. “They did what?”

“They torched the drop zone when their cannon exploded.” 

What the fuck? “Cannon..exploded. Where did they get a cannon?”

“Your oldest boy claims he built it in his grandmothers garage with help from his brother, sister and said grandmother. Sez he got the plans for it from your last duty station.” 

“I was at the Watervliet Arsenal for my last assignment, they make cannons there. Jeff loved watching the rotary forge.” Now I’m getting the picture. “Was my mother called about this too?”

“No.” Was happy to see the bird colonel kind of cringe. “Naomi Novac was there assisting with the project.” Sounds like her. Naomi-Mom always did like to watch things explode. Which is why she’s banded from at least five Central and South American counties and California. Guess Jerry Brown still hasn’t forgiven her for saying saying she has bigger balls then he does, and kinda proved her point when she pulled up her skirt and dropped her pants. Naomi-Mom said she got to bang Linda Ronstadt that night. Which was the other reason Brown was pissed at her. “Thank the Alpha God no,”Oh, back to this conversation. “Luckily the post fire department showed up fast enough to get the flames under control and put out before it got into the woods.” 

“Are any charges being pressed?”

“At this time, no.....BUT....” Oh shit, here it comes. “It will depend on their behavior in the future.”

“I understand completely Sir.” Oh thank heavens, Naomi-Mom still has a little pull left. “Where are they now and how long have they been here?”

“They’re locked in the holding cell down the hall. They’ve only been in there a few hours, as your mother explained they waited until the day you were scheduled to come back to try out their cannon, just in case something went wrong.” Again, sounds like something she’d do, Naomi-Mom always believed in timing and a back up plan.

Got down to the holding area to find the cell door wide open, the pups climbing and swinging from the bars as if they were a jungle gym and Naomi stretched out placidly on the bench with her fingers laced behind her head. “Hi Sweetie, how was Egypt?”

“Hi Papa, hello Papa, the two boys stopped their antics just long enough to look over. “Boy, wish you could have seen the cannon we built. It was a beaut! But it exploded.”

“So I hear.” 

“Lousy lock you have there Col Ellisworth,” Mom said conversationally. “A seven year old could pop it. Would really be a good idea to get a better one.”

“Me! Me!” A happy little blond girl hollered from where she was hanging upside down off the bars up near the ceiling by her knees . “I got it open! Grandma showed me how. I did good Papa!” Oh the Novac-Winchester-Reynolds pups. Jeff, Ulysses and Claire. Get the feeling this was just the start of another generation of MP’s, SP’s and police departments across the globe getting to cringe when ever our names get mentioned. 

Turned to ask Col Ellisworth if I could take them home, except that he looked like he was either going to explode or cry.....or both. Hate to see a grown alpha male cry. “Come on guys, let’s go, chop, chop before the nice colonel changes his mind. Brought back presents for you.” The pups climbed down and raced out the door. Now I wheeled toward Naomi who came sailing majesticly out of the cell. “Mother! I leave these guys with you for three weeks to go on maneuvers in Egypt, get off the airplane and immediately am handed a note to come down to the MP station! What the fuck!?........”

 

“What the fuck.....?” Woke to find I’d face planted into the seat in front me when the train must have suddenly slowed.

“Cas, are you alright?” Jesse had pulled me back and was scenting and nuzzling my face. “You’re not hurt are you?” He touched my belly, could feel a little hand pushing the skin outward to connect with his bond brother. “You’re going to be fine little brother, just a few days more before truly get to meet.” There was a flutter as his toes danced along my rib cage.

“No, just surprised. I’m okay.” Must be pulling into the station. Have to police up our stuff and get ready to make the jump to the next train. The Cologne Central station was a just as crowded as the other two before, so it took a bit of pushing and shoving to get through the mobs of people and up to our car, get our tickets stamped, then seated. At least now, we’re in the home stretch. Another two and half hours and the train will be rolling into Bielefeld. Jeff was crabby at this point. He’d been woken up, jostled about and now thumped down in another strange seat.

“Bad Papa!” He proclaimed, slapping my arm. “Bad!” Was in no mood for this. Smacked him back on the arm, not hard, but enough to make more noise then sting. Now he opened his mouth to beller. 

That was IT! “Listen pup,” I hissed. “You keep that up and I’ll give you something to cry for.” Then blew scent in his face. Yeah, took the fast way out, but I’m tired, at the end of my patience (considering I had to deal with the midgets, Bremerhaven and Granny Pants), the pup was lucky I didn’t take him over my knee and wallop that well padded ass of his. Glowered at Jesse, who looked like he was about say something about what I just did. “You got a problem?” He quickly shook his head no. “Good, cuz if you do, keep it to yourself. I’m in no mood for anyones back talk.”

About a half hour later, had calmed down enough to be civil. “Are we okay?” Jesse asked quietly, must have figured the smell of burnt pie had been replaced by peach ice cream, so it was safe to say something.

“Yeah, we’re cool. Sorry.” This had not been how I wanted this trip to go. “Sorry my First, lost my temper and really shouldn’t have.”

“No problem Cas,” he said soothingly, taking my hand and kissing the finger pads. “You’ve had a bit of a rum go of it today. It’s not easy trying to deal with a lot like us.” Then Jesse gave his most winning smile and soothing scent. You could tell the pup has taken ‘Winchester Lessons’ from Ben. If I could bottle what this guy is selling, would make a mint.

The rest of the ride in was uneventful and but was glad to see it come to an end. Jeff was still asleep when the train pulled into the station and was in no hurry to wake him up. Found it easier if I carried the bags and Jesse hauled Jeff. Thank the Alpha God, Jenny, Lewiston and Sir Winnie were at the end of the platform waiting for us.

“My little boy, how you’ve grown.” Even though it’s been only a few months, Jesse Reynolds added an inch or two to his height and a few pounds in weight. Looks like going up and down three flights of stairs, some pretty good cooking (if a do say so myself...by One Eyed Wolfie...it’s been hectic couple of weeks, so we’ve eaten a lot of pizza) and hanging around with Ben (as they were both grounded so they had no one else to be around with except each other) had done the pup a world of good.

“Hallo Mum.” My First got to be a little boy again for a least a moment or two in his mothers arms. Not the responsible alpha, younger brother to his elder brother or watcher of Jeff. Just Jesse Reynolds.

“Here let me take those valises from you,” Lewiston hefted the suit cases, so all I had was the diaper bag. 

“Thank you My Lord Alpha, I.......” Damn. Could feel a warm wet trickle go down the side of my leg. Double damn, couldn’t go on the train and now couldn’t wait till we got near a mens room so I piss myself? Fuck! “Could you excuse me for a moment?” Great, make a mess of myself in front of Jenny and Lewiston. “Where’s the mens’ room? Ah, there it is ‘Herrentoilette’. Be right back.” Strode over, found a stall, check for holes in the partitions-considering the mood I’m in, would cut the son of a bitches dick off this time instead of just dropping a knife through it-dropped my britches and ewwwwww! Yuck what a bloody mess.......ow. My aching cruddy back...Ow....geeze that hurts......OWWWWWWWW! Those aren’t Braxton Hicks!

Clean the mess off the underwear and waddle out to wash my hands, toss the last of my change into the attendants dish but also start timing the contractions. “Where’s the nearest army hospital?”

“Nearest BAOR facility is over in Rintein, about 45 minutes from here” Jenny began, “why?” Then it dawned on her. “You’re in labor, aren’t you?” Could never say the woman wasn’t perceptive.

“You damn betcha. My water broke and got the contractions...............erk........can we get going people? Don’t wanna have this pup in the car.”

We made it to Rintein in under 30 minutes. It’s at moments like this, have figured out why Lewiston Reynolds is such a great commander. He knows when to step aside and let people with the knowledge and ability do what they have to do in order to get the job done. In this instance, he let Jenny drive. “Oh, thank you Darling,” she gushed, then took command as well as the drivers seat. “Lewiston, Jesse, Sir Winnie and Jeff (who had woken up in the mean time) take the rear. Castiel, front passengers side.” 

My girl has a lead foot, a Beamer and she knows how to use em. Lady Jeanette Jerome Reynolds was born to drive the Autobaun and all you ‘Hermans’ better get out of her way when she’s coming up on you with a head lights a flashing. Thank the Alpha God it was almost midnight because we kinda sorta went on the sidewalk a couple of times when avoiding the stop lights on the way out of town. Suspect there will be some tickets coming their way in the next few days when the traffic cameras get checked.

The Beamer sped up Auto Route 66 till the sign appeared for Bundesautobahn 2A. Jenny maneuvered the car on to the highway and then romped on the gas. “Now all we have to do is get to exit 34.”

“Are you sure Darling?” Came a voice from the back seat. “I’ve always used Exit 35.”

“But Exit 34 brings us in closer to Rintein, Dearest.”

Lewiston was indeed a great commander and knows when to delegate responsibility, but sometimes when it came to his mate and directions, HE COULD NOT SHUT UP! “But Mouse, we still have to navigate all those back roads. Exit 35 is faster, we get on Route 83 South to Route 238 to Konrad-Adenauer Strabe and then up Bahnhofstrabe.”

“But Sweetheart,” Jenny’s voice was still reasonable, as the needle on the speedometer hit 160 KM, “but my way gets us right to the front gate.”

“But Pookie Face, my way gets us to the back gate which is closer to hospital.”

“But Petal,” Her Ladyships voice was taking on a decided put upon edge. Watched as the needle nudged 180. We were all gonna freaken die while they’re arguing about which exit to take! “They’re such slow coaches back there. Ulysses would be out of nappies and off to uni by the time the guards get done with all their falderol.”

Took a moment between blowing, puffing and checking my watch for time between contractions, to turn and look in to the back seat. Not surprisingly Jesse was slumped down, arms crossed, looking as bored and disgusted as only a teenager can, “they do this all the time”, he groused. “Dad lets Mum drive and then he turns into a backseat bossy boots.” Sir Winnie decided he’d had enough and went to sleep in self defense, Jeff was standing on the seat, watching enthralled as everything was going by in blur. “Pala!” He crowed. “Roooooom, rooooom! Sonnofa Bitch!” Course that brought the argument over directions to a screeching halt.

“What did he just say?” The speedometer dropped slowly down as Jenny had taken her foot off the gas, ‘discussion’ forgotten in the light of a 14 month old potty mouth. “Where did he hear that?”

“Can we put the petal to the metal and discuss the fact that his Da-Dean drives his big black Impala like a son of a gun and swears when he really shouldn’t when Jeff is in the car, LATER?!” Puffed and blew, “contractions are eight minutes apart now people!”

And they’re not paying any attention. “Such language is highly inappropriate around a child.”

“Quite so my dear.” So NOW Lewiston is being agreeable with his mate?

The car is now creeping along by gravity alone. “You really need to let this Dean person know, that such language is not to be tolerated around tender ears.” I love Jenny Reynolds beyond reason but there are times when I wonder how her ladyships head can go that far up her ass.

Of course that’s when Jesse pipes up, “don’t know why your knickers are in such a twist. You and Dad swear all the time.”

His father of course is appalled. “You know that is not true young man and we will discuss that bloody later.”

“See!”

That’s when flash meets boom. “Oh fuck.”

“There, you did it again.”

“Bullocks!” That time it was his mother.

This is Hell. I know it. We were in a crash and I’m dead AND IN HELL! Or the very least Purgatory with all the pagan babies. “Can we put a little urgency to this folks!? Do rock, paper, scissors I don’t care but GET ME TO THE FUCKEN HOSPITAL NOW!”

“Fuck,” came the voice of my little ‘Pol Parrot’.

Jenny won, she tossed scissors and Lewiston had paper. “Best two out of three?”

“NO!” We all shouted as the car shot forward down the empty road like a Saturn 5 from Cape Kennedy.

There are definitely times when its good to be a general. Especially when the gate guards are being such big twats. “You’re here for what reason? Names please.” You should’ve seen em turn themselves inside out when Lewiston stepped out of the car and whipped the ID card from his wallet. “Yes Sir, sorry Sir, hospital is down that way a kilometer to your left, Sir.”

The hospital was a two story field stone building with a peeked roof, probably built before the First World War, with the only visible modern feature a brick drive up ramp to the front entrance. Jenny took the corner a trifle sharpish and scraped the left front fender, also knocked off more then a few bricks from the wall. “This is why we have insurance,” she said reasonably before Lewiston could open his mouth. 

We came through the door in a screaming insane rush. “Sister,”’ my Lord Alpha went into ‘general mode’. “Contact the doctor on call immediately, get this man prepped, he’s ready to have a pup at any moment!”

“If any body comes at me with ‘salad tongs’ I’ll kick their asses into the middle of next week!” Oh man, that last contraction was a bad one. “I’m five minutes apart now! Let’s put some hustle in this people!”

“Ass!” Shouted Jeff happily.

“I don’t know you people,” Jesse pouted. “You’re as embarrassing as fuck.”

“Fuck!” Sir Winnie chimed in, who’d woken up and didn’t want to be left out of his family’s swear fest.

“Language!” Her Ladyship admonished. The hospital staff just stood frozen in their tracks at the unholy mess that had just burst through their doors. Their mouths hung open so wide you could see the hangy down thing in the back of their throats wiggling to and fro.

Course just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, this Paratrooper and his mates amble in, looking like they’ve been in a fight down in the ‘vil’ and were there for a quick patch up. It was then one announced quite loudly: “who’s the cunt whose car took down half the wall out there?” Wrong thing to say as argument forgotten, contractions forgotten, as the lot of us wheels about as a pack. I suspect they were surprised to have caught the worst of it from two omegas, a middle aged general, their grumpy teenage son and two small pups with very sharp teeth.

At the end of it all, the paras weren’t all that upset about losing and in fact went down to the Nah and Gut in town to buy some beer (lots of beer) to bring back and toast the entry into this world of Ulysses Tenacious Sampson Jacks Novac Winchester Reynolds. Who came in at 01:24 Saturday morning the 14th of April 1979. He was 50 centimeters (20 inches) long and 4.7 kilograms (10 pounds 5 ounces) in weight. The pup had a head full of dark hair (with the indigestion I had, you think the pup woulda come out looking like a grizzly bear) and a healthy set of lungs which he used loudly and often. 

Heard the party was a really great time, wish I coulda been there.

John made it down late on Saturday afternoon to visit and pick up Jeff. “Hey Lambkin, how you feeling?” He’d brought flowers and a small bottle of Belgian ale which he tucked under my pillow for later. “Heard you guys had an interesting time, I shoulda got down here sooner for the fight and beer bust.”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck and yeah, it was a grand fight.” Delivery had been a little rough, as those morons tried to use the forceps and I was forced to kick another doctor halfway cross the room. Lewiston and the paras came charging in (screaming ‘Ayo Gurkhai ’ does have that effect on people) as the nursing staff were trying to tie me down and gas me up. “Make sure those forceps came no where near me!” Sure, why not let a bunch of squadies see my snatch? Ah, what the fuck, by this time, everyone and the janitor has seen it anyway. “And you’re such an assbutt.”

“But I’m your assbutt,” John said lovingly, kissing my forehead.

About that time, there was a gentle tap on the door and young fellow with a clip board and a pen behind his ear poked his head in. “Hallo,” he said brightly. “Just here to get the information for the little ones birth certificate.” John held my hand as the litany of questions began. Everything was going fine, “that pup will know he’s in trouble when that name comes flying out the window,” right up until we got to the whole ‘father’-nationality, mother/papa-nationality and date of mating. Oops, we got problems.

I would be staying in the hospital for the next 10 days to get a uterine infection under control. Ulysses was in for eight but not because of any medical issues. The hospital couldn’t issue his birth certificate until all the legal issues were straightened out. 

Took all of those eight days for the lawyers from various JAG and civil law offices to figure out if he was considered a British, American or German citizen. Hereditary citizenship from Britain was not in the cards as Lewiston was not mated to me, same with US citizenship as I was not in the United States or in any outlaying US possessions for over a year from Ulysses conception, nor mated to the pups biological father. John would have had to formally adopt Ulysses with Jenny and Lewiston renouncing any legal claims to the boy. That, of course, was not going to happen.

Well, that left the Germans. But since their laws stated that pups born of non citizens on German soil were not automaticly considered citizens of the country, that quickly took care of that non claim. So in essence, Ulysses was stateless. 

So, a small team from the BAOR Legal Assistance Office in Bielefeld, had been assigned to research the problem and had found the small section in the British Nationality Act of 1948 dealing with prodigy of those engaged in a Profound Bond relationship. So after conferring with US Army JAG in Frankfurt (Col Sam Winchester assigned himself personally to research from the American side) it was established that a pup created of a Profound Bound would be considered legitimate issue as well as having duel citizenship of the parent countries of origin until such time as they turn 21 years of age if male and alpha/beta, 18 if female and alpha/beta (figuring girls mature faster and are mated younger). At which time, they could legally decide permanent citizenship status of the country of their choosing or retain duel status. Omegas, male or female are considered property of their male alpha/beta parent and would be granted a protected state but no citizenship rights. Well that sucked canal water vigorously.

Since the traditional birth certificates were not useful, one was made up on the fly by the legal teams, approved by everyone and their dog from the American and British sides, signed, sealed to freaken death and finally delivered. The finished product was three feet long and had more signatures then the Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence and the by laws of most officers clubs. Could see this was going to cause no END of consternation in the future, but in the here and now, it’s close enough for government work.

In the mean time hadn’t seen Ulysses in days because I had a fever from the infection, couldn’t nurse because of being on antibiotics, so was feeling pretty much bored, miserable and forgotten. Nobody really forgot me but tell that to the bad case of ‘puppy blues’ I was having. And of course couldn’t tell anyone anything was wrong, didn’t dare as it would sink my career. So by day six, I was in a rather bad way.

Had convinced myself I was going to lose Ulysses. He would be going away with the Reynolds and never coming back. Granted, he’ll be with them for the next 10 years, I could come and see him any time and he’d come to live with me at age 10. My head told me that over and over, but my heart wasn’t listening. It was saying I would be pushed aside (who cares, he’s just an omega) and my little boy would be lost to me forever. The pistol in the diaper bag (John had forgotten to take said bag along) was starting to look very inviting. Mouth of the barrel under my chin, one little tug on the trigger, problem solved. They wouldn’t miss me, not even Jeff. I’m just his ‘bad papa’ anyway.

Years back, I’d stood on the balcony of Kate Gleason Hall at RIT* looking down six stories and thinking it wasn’t that far. Bet I could jump.

It would be Mick Davies who came in at the right time. He’d tagged along with Jennys father to visit the new arrival and had stopped in to see me just as I was teeing up The Lovers Kiss. He could’ve done a lot of things and then did the most unexpected.

Instead of diving toward the bed, he simply stood there in the doorway with a cocky smile. “Ya wanna fuck?”

“Huh?” Okay, that was not what I was expecting to hear. ‘You’ve got so much to live for’ or ‘you don’t wanna do that’, maybe but certainly not..... 

“Again, do you wanna fuck? Hurry up, don’t have all day, things to do, places to be. Have to be ‘step and fetch it’ to his Lordship shortly.”

For a guy who was about to blow their own brains out, I was oddly appalled by his rudeness, “What kinda question is that to ask a person? That is just rude, crude and socially unacceptable!” 

“Oh, guess I missed the chapter in Debretts for the rules of proper conversation when the other party has a gun under their chin.” Davies smiled sardonicly, “remember to hold out your pinkie finger, don’t wanna get brains on it after all.” 

WHAT AM I DOING?! Let the weapon fall from my fingers and drop to my lap. Mick came over slowly, reached over and picked up the 45. Pushed the button to let the magazine drop, worked the mechanism and the bullet flew out of the chamber, landing between my knees. Started to shake and the tears rolled down my face. “I’m sorry,” what else was I going to say. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?” He stuck the Lovers Kiss back in the diaper bag and the bullets in his pocket. “Sure as hell not that poncey Hun general of yours.”

Well that got my dander up a little. “Lewistons not a ponce.” What’s a ponce?

“Well, where is he? Ain’t here taken care you. And your mate ain’t around either, mate.” John had headed back up to Brussels on Easter Monday with Jeff. “So it’s up to little ole me.....again.” Mick sat down on the bed, “tell you what. I saw a motorbike outside in the car park just itching to be ‘borrowed’. Can take you out for a spin, maybe a beer, maybe a little more.......or I can just leave that bullet between your dimpled knees and go. Tell you what, I’m a lot more fun.” He got up, “well? What you gonna do?”

Left a note on the pillow, letting everyone know I’d be back in a couple hours.

Mick was right, he was a lot more fun. We stole.....borrowed....yes, we definitely borrowed...the motorbike. Always did like a Triumph and this one had some shit and git. Rode around the town, bought some bread, cheese and beer and went for a picnic along the banks of the Weser River. We also made out like teenagers. As I was still a month or two from sex of any kind, so all we could do was kiss and grope, but it was just what the doctor ordered for a touch starved omega. On the down side, I was kind unhappy about the way my body looked. Yeah, I know, just had a pup, late delivery and all that crap. But didn’t mean that the stretch marks, spider veins, saggy skin and bruises didn’t bother me. Combined with the various scars collected over the years, oh yeah, I was a real looker.

“I got scars,” my wild Irish boy said, proudly dropping trou to show them off.

“But yours are sexy,” I was trying to hold on to the billowing oxford shirt he was to pull over my head. Didn’t have the nursing shirt on, as we were kind of in a hurry to leave the hospital, so all I had on was a pair of maturity pants, panties with menstrual pad, flip flops and that oxford shirt. “Come on man, you don’t wanna see mine. They’re ugly, I’m fat and leaking like a sieve.” Course that’s when alphas find an omega at their most attractive (completely nuts, right?) and yeah, have had this talk with John in the past. But it’s right now and am in the middle of a bad bout of puppy blues. “And my boobs hurt.”

“Really?” Now Big and Little Mick looked rather pleased with that announcement. “I mean, how awful. Let Mick kiss em and make all better.” He pushed up the shirt, following with the broad flat of his tongue. He caressed his way around the curve of each breast, licking and kissing till his lips wrapped around the penny brown nipple. He suckled like a hungry pup as I reached down and stroked his cock hard. It was as I remembered it, of good size and more then long enough to do the job. Not as big as Johns, nor having Lewistons Prince Albert, or Dean’s vigoriousness and Bennys.....let’s just stop right there....My wild Irish boy was himself and the imp with rather industrious fingers, pushed and tugged, managed to get me down to nothing but panties. “There now, ain’t you a pretty sight for sore eyes.”

“You’re eyes must be pretty sore if you think this is a pretty sight.”

That’s when he leaned over to his discarded pants, pulled out a glasses case from one of the pockets and put on a pair of eye glasses. “Uh huh, uh huh, hmmmm, yes, indeed, definitely fuckable.”

“You are a bad one.”

“But isn’t that why you like me so much?”

He was about to take the specs off, but.... “leave em on. They make you look scholarly.”

“That’s me. Smartest dick in three counties.” 

The shadows were starting to grow long when we pulled back into the parking lot and put the motor bike back in its spot. Being conscientious thieves....borrowers....put gas in the tank so the guy whose bike that he unknowingly ‘loaned’ (didn’t steal it thank you very much) wouldn’t get stranded half way home. Mick and I trot up entrance ramp, huh, looks like someone body fixed the part of the wall Jenny knocked down. Walked through the door and almost make it passed the nurses station when one of them looked up in time to see us try to sneak through.

“Oh no you wicked creatures, don’t you try to get by me.” She was an iron haired old beta who looked like she’d crossed the Rhine with Montgomery. Her name tag read ‘Agnes Fenton’ and she was as imposing as her name. “The General and his Lordship have been beside themselves wondering where you skipped off to.” Then her nose twitched, “shame on you young man coming back smelling like an afternoon tumble. Go shower in the gents changing room this minute. Go on, off you get, it’s down that hall to the left.” Then she turned to me. “can’t blame you for taking a tumble with him. If I were another 40 years younger....or even 30, would have go at em myself. Now you need to get his scent washed off before the General catch wind of ya. Alphas can be so stupid and territorial sometimes.” Guess when you’ve been around as she had and seen it all, judgment is for people who hadn’t.

Went back up to my room and into the bath where Nurse Fenton was quite through. Felt like she took the hide off me with that loofa sponge. Hadn’t been this well scrubbed since my mating day. Also shampooed, top and bottom. There hadn’t been time to cut the lawn before delivery so had as much brush on my head as on the snatch. “There we go dearie, nice and clean and smelling like....hospital soap. But better then that Irish lad.” 

“Thank you Miss Fenton,” she wrapped a towel around me and opened the door to find Lewiston standing on the other side of it with his hand up to knock.

“My Lord Alpha.” Tried to keep the surprise off my face and voice. Okay Novac, think quick. “Hello Sir.”

“Castiel, you had us all worried. Thank you Sister, I’ll take it from here.” Oh crap.

“Yes General,” she said with a sweet smile and booked it on out just as fast as her squeaky little white orthopedic shoes could take her. Bitch. I climbed back into bed, got myself comfortable and waited for him to say something. Took Lewiston a little while to finally speak, guess he was waiting for the silence to get to me. I’m a Novac, having been hauled before teachers, principals, MP’s, SP’s, various and a sundry police departments AND Capt Ross, all without blinking or saying a word.....yeah.....can be a spinx when I wanna be.

Then of course Lewiston played some dirty pool. “Jenny was so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” no I’m not really.......really.....honest to Pete. “I left a note to say I was going out for a little while.”

“That you did,” he said sternly. “But she turned the country side topsy turvy looking for you.”

“I just needed to get out, wanted a little fresh air, see something different....”

“You could’ve asked us to take you on walk about.”

“When were either of you here to ask?” That came out a little harsher then I wanted. “I mean...”

The General got his British up, “I have duties at First Corp, Jenny still has Sir Winnie to marshal and is in the process of interviewing nannies. Then there’s this damn legal business, my son will not be stateless or considered a bastard.”

“OUR son.” Since we were on the subject. “Not just yours and I haven’t seen Ulysses in three days. Nobody brought him see me in THREE FUCKING DAYS! And haven’t held him since he was born!”

“Quite right, OUR son and I believe he was kept away from you because of your fever and infection.” Then Lewiston sat down on the bed as if all the wind got knocked out of his sails. “What do you see in him? What does he have that I don’t?”

“See in who?” Know full well what he means, but decided to play dumb.

“Davies. Is he because he’s younger, handsomer......Irish?”

“And how do you figure I was with him?”

“You cleaned yourself, not your clothes. They reek of him.” Oops.

I could keep playing dumb or just get it out in the open.....no more messing around. “He was there. Heard someone say once that ‘80 percent of life is just showing up’......he showed up.” Left out was the fact he showed up as I had a gun under my chin ready to fire, no. Don’t think Lewiston is ready for that little tidbit of information, don’t know if I’m even ready to fully comprehend it either.

Lewiston Reynolds fell back on the pillows. “I’m tired, weary to the bone. I’m sorry for not being there for you, for my family and even at times my country. I’m just so tired of being pulled in every direction to the point where I wonder if there is anything left of me.” Whoa. Was not expecting to hear that. He looked up at me with great sad eyes, “All I’ve ever known was duty and to be a soldier, always thought that’s be enough.” Lewiston sighed, “but not these days.”

Had to do something here if both of us were going to get passed this. “Was there ever a time you thought of something else you wanted to be?

“When I was five, I wanted to be a gypsy belly dancer, later I fancied selling coconuts in the market place.”

“Noble aspirations all. Which explains those lovely moves you showed us back at the embassy before the New Years party.” Leaned in and kissed his nose. “You’re indeed a very dutiful alpha, my Lord.” I said softly. What was it that Madam Francois always said? ‘When you help someone else, you help yourself.’ Needed to get loose from the hormonal ‘pity party’ and change directions even if I’ve got to fake it to make it. Hey, that sounds profound, will have to write that down some day. “But there is so much more to you than just the dutiful soldier. You’re a very kind, thoughtful and funny man....who can belly dance.”

“I’m funny?” As if he never thought of himself that way. 

“Very.” Looked into those great teddy bear brown eyes of his. “You made me laugh that night I got pregnant last July back at the embassy. You dropping a dime that size of a man hole cover on John.” Put my hands on hips, nose a little in the air and pursed lips, obviously the worst impression of Lewiston ever. “When I first met John I thought he was a bit of bit of a big git....pip pip cheerio....and all that rot.”

My Lord Alpha took mock offense, “I,” he said grandly “do not speak like that. Though John was a big git.”

I continued “then one night we went for dinner at Quarta’s One, got drunk and did manly man things like compared willies. Then I like him quite....even if he was still a big git.” 

Lewiston laughed. It was one of those laughs that came out of your toes and goes right to your belly. My dignified general was braying like a jackass and cackling like a hen as the tears were rolling down his cheeks. He even drooled a little.

“Well lookie here, made you laugh.” 

It took a little while for him to calm down enough to talk and even then Lewiston still got the giggles. The laugh took everything out of him, as I knew it would. Then he looked up at me like as would a small child. “Do you love me even just a little?” 

“I love you more then just a little.”

“More then Davies?”

“Definitely more.” Silly alphas.

“Good,” Lewistons eyes closed and he fell asleep.

A few days later on April 25th, John and Jeff came to pick me up for the trip back to K-town. “Wuv ooooo Papa!” The little guy ran up to me and flung his arms around my legs. The ‘dimples of death’ were at their most lethal. “Miss ooooo!” Maybe I’m not such a ‘bad papa after all. Got a quick low down on the last week and a half, apparently Jeff on a chocolate jag from all the candy in his Easter Basket, learned to climb the kitchen cabinets, discovered the well in their yard and went in twice, and Mary found that drinking a lot more beer was a wonderful idea starting that Easter Sunday dinner. And continuing for the remainder of Jeff’s time there. Sounds like a rather successful visit to me.

But now it was time to leave. Held Ulysses memorizing the feel of his soft dark hair, how those blue eyes shown like the sea and his milky puppy scent. Pressed the tiny body to mine for one more moment before handing him to Jenny and turning to run out of the hospital room before she snagged my hand to pull me back to her side. “Castiel, my dearest.” We stood with the pup between us and her lips on mine. “You are my breath, the beat of my heart and each step in this life I take. When near or far, Ulysses will hear your name, see your picture and know the love of the omega who did everything to make sure that he would be born. This I swear upon my life.” 

Now my knees were weak. Her breath, lips and voice. She is my greatest strength, terrible weakness and most addictive drug. She who can pull me from darkness and into the light or with a glance throw me into the deepest despair. I can do nothing but believe every word Lady Jeannette Jerome Reynolds has uttered. Now I could walk away forgiven and forgiving, leaving Ulysses in her arms.

The ride home was long but better than taking the train. John had forgone the driver and aide to drive the Bronco himself. Jeff was in the back seat singing ‘Jesus loves me’ or I think that’s what he’s singing. Hard to tell with the ‘yea yeas and Irv’s’. John and I discussed what I was going to tell people. The story would be simple yet believable. That the pup would be staying with him until I could get a transfer to Belgium. As he’d gotten a promotion to Captain (epic eye roll here) he could afford a wet nurse and a sitter. I would be going up every other weekend to bond with the new pup. This was easier then trying to explain a ‘Profound Bond’, who it was with, the guy I was mated to.....oh yeah, this was the best we could hope for. The other idea would’ve been to say Ulysses died but that would’ve put me in the cross hairs of the shrinks, so hell no to that.

As we were driving through the Vogelwah Kaserine main gate, John causally said: “I got a welcome home present for you.”

“You did? What is it?”

He grinned. “It’s a surprise Lambkin.”

“Oh come on now. Tell me.”

“Nope. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.” Course the bastard slowed the Bronco down to a crawl going up Florida Loop.

“I could walk faster then this, so ein Misthaufen......oops” Last thing I need to do is expand Jeffs ever growing vocabulary of bad words and phrases. “I mean, gee whiz Darling.” Course John thought that was the funniest thing ever. Son of a biscuit. We pull up in front of my building, damn it, the Trabi is still there. Probably should come out later and try to get the thing turned over being that its sat there for two weeks. With my luck, that commie car will start right up. 

Had to take the stairs slowly and very carefully. My guts were still in a rumpus about giving birth and will still bleeding off and on for the next 30 days. Wonderful. So it took a little time to get up the third floor. Okay, got the key in the door, flung it open, Jeff ran down the hall and back then made the circuit again. Guess he’s glad to be home. “Okay, where’s my present?” 

John put his hands over my eyes. “Walk forward.....few steps more. Okay stop, turn left, your other left assbutt.” He took his hands away. “What do you think?”

“HOLY MOTHERFUCKEN SHIT!” The table was massive beast and took over half the living room. It was obviously old and carved with curly cues, flowers, bats and lion heads with rings in their mouths that looked like door knockers on solid trestles that made up its two legs. The matching chairs were equally heavily carved and upholstered in real brown leather. “Where did you get this and how did you get it up the stairs?”

“With a great deal of swearing and a lot of beer.” John ran a hand across the table top. “It’s probably gonna cost you extra to get it back across the ocean but.....” He handed me a small envelope that was laying there. “Think you might find it worth the extra expense. Plus you might want to start saving now.”

Opened the envelope and pulled out the small white card. 

Herzliche Glückwünsche was written on the front. ‘Best Wishes’. Well that’s nice. Flipped it open:

‘On the occasion of the birth of your son. A gift to make the celebration sweeter.’

-General and Frau Gerd Schmückle 

 

“Remember what I said the day you got the schrank?” Shuttered. That was the fun day Ben and Jesse took Jeff to Paris for Who Tickets and get laid, bought the Trabi (which seemed to be the only thing anyone cared about) and oh yes poked the business end of a snub nosed 38 in some guys crotch. Oh yeah, good times. Thought a moment and then John’s words came back:

“….if I knew getting you a kraut generals schrank got you this hot and bothered would’ve asked for his dining room set too.” 

“Is this what I think it is....?” John in the mean time had sat down in the ‘masters chair’, lit a cigar and put his feet up on the table. “Can’t be.”

“You better shit in your mess kit, it is G.I. Gerdies Mrs got a new dining room set last week and gifted this one to you.” Then he took a letter out of his breast pocket, “I’ve taken the liberty to reserve a weekend for us at the Norotel down in Saarbrücken a few weeks. Nothing fancy, but it’s private and we can get some time together.” Now I had to sit down. This was more then I’d ever expected, considering the highs and lows of the last ten days.

“Shepherd.”

“Yes Lambkin?”

“Get your feet off the table.”

“Yes Lambkin,” but his feet never moved and I didn’t make a big deal of it, not for the time being, even as he tapped his cigar ash into the pewter calling card tray, he’d picked up off the coffee table. Life is never perfect and you never know where it takes you. One minute you’ve got a gun under your chin ready to pull the trigger and next you’re on the back of a ‘borrowed’ motorbike with your arms around the waist of a handsome alpha. Ulysses is not lost to me just temporarily mis-oriented. 

“Papa?”

“Yes Jeff?” He climbed up into my lap.

“Wuv ooo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter comes from what women have tried to jump start labor when the baby is not cooperating. http://www.essentialbaby.com.au/forums/index.php?/topic/1150080-tips-for-bringing-on-labour/ 
> 
> Adam & Eve is a conglomerate company that sells sex toys, vibrators, condoms, and lingerie...Adam & Eve was founded in 1970 by physician Tim Black and Phil Harvey. It started as a small storefront on one of Chapel Hill, North Carolina's main streets, selling condoms and lubricants. It soon became a mail-order catalog selling contraceptives through non-medical channels-Wikipedia Sooner or later, in the 70’s and 80’s everyone had one of their catalogs and got a package in the mail in a plain brown wrapper.
> 
> “That is fucked up. That fuck is so upped it might never get down again.”   
> ― Charlotte Stein, Never Sweeter. Okay, so it was published in 2005  
> but was probably said before that. But in the interests of fairness and  
> non plagiarism, Miss Charlotte will get the credit today.
> 
> Hole wat a shaken is of course Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" a song written by Dave "Curlee" Williams and usually credited to him and James Faye "Roy" Hall. The song was first recorded by Big Maybelle, though the best-known version is the 1957 rock and roll/rockabillyversion by Jerry Lee Lewis. 
> 
> Having heard and used the phrase, ‘Read the Riot Act’ for years, figured it was time to look it up “The Riot Act 1714 (1 Geo.1 St.2 c.5) was an act of the Parliament of Great Britain which authorized local authorities to declare any group of 12 or more people to be unlawfully assembled and to disperse or face punitive action. The act's long title was "An Act for preventing tumults and riotous assemblies, and for the more speedy and effectual punishing the rioters", and it came into force on 1 August 1715.] It was repealed in England and Wales by section 10(2) and Part III of Schedule 3 of the Criminal Law Act 1967. Acts similar to the Riot Act passed into the laws of British colonies in Australia, Canada, and America, some of which remain today.”-Wikipedia  
> The phrase "read the Riot Act" has passed into common usage for a stern reprimand or warning of consequences.  
> If you think Castiels bouncing between the high and mundane is unbelievable, it’s actually based on a special forces major I’d met back in the day. He’s described his time in ‘Nam as one day being out hunting VC with the Montagnards in the jungle and the next day at a black tie event in Saigon. 
> 
> ICH WERIDE DICH OHNE SSCHAUM RASIEREN: German insult for-I will shave you without foam.
> 
> https://germanfoods.org/recipes/easter-cherry-cake/ 
> 
> https://germanfoods.org/recipes/colorful-easter-cake/ this is the Bunter Osterkuchen 
> 
> Kung fu grip: it was a feature on a GI Joe Action Figure where the plastic hand could be formed into a fist. Created in 1974, it was part of Hasbros ‘Adventure Team’ series.
> 
> Ihren fahrschein, bitte: your tickets, please
> 
> bruny stary zydoc: was something my ex-mother in law said once when describing a ratty old coat. She said it meant ‘dirty old man’ in Polish, found out the hard way, and during a job interview no less, that it meant ‘dirty old Jew’. Never got a call back on that interview.
> 
> Spock Must Die! is an American science fiction novel written by James Blish, published February 1970 by Bantam Books. It was the first original novel based on the Star Trek television series intended for adult readers -Wikipedia
> 
> Falderol: an old word meaning nonsense. My mother used to use it around us kids growing up instead of saying ‘fuck’. 
> 
> Para: The Parachute Regiment, colloquially known as the Paras, is an  airborne infantry regimentof the British Army. The regiment is one of the most elite units in the world. Wikipedia
> 
> *Cadet Novac, Chapter 24: Fiddler on the Balcony of Kate Gleason Hall
> 
> Debrett's is a professional coaching company, publisher and authority on etiquette and behaviour, founded in 1769 with the publication of the first edition of The New Peerage. The company takes its name from its founder, John Debrett. -Wikipedia Think of it as the UK’s version of Emily Post.
> 
> Showing up is 80 percent of Life: is credited in a 1977 New York Times interview with film director Woody Allen.
> 
> So ein Misthaufen: German for ‘what a pile of crap’
> 
> This is the table: https://dgh.me/list/ 
> 
> Novotel is a mid-scale hotel brand that opened in 1967 in France. It’s part of the Accor Hotel group and has close to 400 hotels and resorts in 60 countries


	10. Kiss and Novotel

Want to thank everyone for being so patient. This took a little longer to write then I figured, as I had an Attack of the Giant Plot Bunnies and had to re-work the whole chapter. Okay let me think of any warnings here, period attitudes, actions and language. The usual late 70's stuff. 

 

The first week home, I didn’t do much except sleep and try to recover physically and mentally from giving birth to and giving up Ulysses. Am not looking forward to this months phone bill, as it’s going to be hellaous.......I kinda called Jenny every afternoon. After a bit of small talk with her, she’d put the receiver next to Ulysses ear so I could let him know how much I loved him always and forever. Even Jeff got to talk to his little bond brother, mostly telling him about ‘Pala and Dette and Irv’. Ulysses made puppy noises in return or a belch or two. Little dude could burp like a trooper.

During this time, Jeff went back to the sitters during the day. It was the only way I was going to get any decent rest and not worry what he was going to get into or out of. Case in point: on the first nice Spring morning we had before Rufus swung by to pick Jeff up, I’d opened the door to the balcony the first time ever to air the stuffiness out the joint, it’d been too fucken cold before that and tell you what, it was going to be the last time. Turned my back on the little imp for just a second when suddenly heard:“Ump up, ook up,” and just about had a heart attack when I looked around to see Jeff climbing up to the ledge of the balcony. 

“JEFFFFF!” Never moved so fast, EVER! Caught him by the back of his britches just as he got to the top of the wall. “DON’T. YOU. EVER. DO. THAT. AGAIN!” This time he caught a few more licks of my palm then what usually happened with his ‘bad papa’ routine. Spanken then huggen because the thought of him going over the side and seeing his little broken body on the concrete three flights below was just too terrible to think about. Resolved that door would stay locked, or nailed shut if I had to, for the rest of our time in Germany.

He cried and Irved and then...“sorry Papa.” No ‘bad papas’ or ‘no’ or any such crap? Okay, maybe some time with Mary and John had done the little guy some good.

As April rolled into May, the Winchesters and Turners pulled out all the stops to celebrate two great occasions. Dean got promoted to Warrant Officer Two and the Turners paid off the mortgage on their home/business. As expected, the shindig at the officers club was monumental as Dean went halves on the expenses for the promotion party with another officer, some military intelligence type named Cassie Robinson. Her number had come up on the list this month to get her captaincy. The actual ceremony of him having his new bars pinned on was very dignified and it was the provost marshal himself, BG Theodore Kanam who gave the welcoming remarks and then administered the oath. Ben and Lisa stood on either side of Dean as he raised his right hand and repeated the promise all of us make to Alpha God and Country.....

I, Dean Micheal Winchester HAVING BEEN APPOINTED AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES, IN THE GRADE OF WARRANT OFFICE TWO, DO SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I WILL SUPPORT AND DEFEND THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES AGAINST ALL ENEMIES, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC; THAT I BEAR TRUE FAITH AND ALLEGIANCE TO THE SAME; THAT I TAKE THIS OBLIGATION FREELY, WITHOUT ANY MENTAL RESERVATION OR PURPOSE OF EVASION; AND THAT I WILL WELL AND FAITHFULLY DISCHARGE THE DUTIES OF THE OFFICE UPON WHICH I AM ABOUT TO ENTER; SO HELP ME ALPHA GOD. 

As before, I just stood in the back ground and watched. Only this time I held Emma and Jeffs hands as their Father/Da-Dean get his new bars. Didn’t feel quite so put out this time as I did two years ago, (has it only been two year now?) when I sniveled into Lady Belas arms because I wasn’t included in the family celebration. Christ, it seems like a life time ago now. Two years, two pups and a mating later (not necessarily in that order) here we are....time flies when you’re having....‘fun’. Yes that is sarcasm you’re hearing and the finger quotes from Hell.

This time of course, went to the party afterward at the O Club as it wasn’t so much of a family affair as it was an outing for the MP officer and NCO corps, who’d all been invited to what turned into a massive beer bust after all the mates cleared out. Of course, LtCol Sam and Jessica came down from Frankfurt for the party. “Can’t miss seeing my big brother getting up there in the world,” Col Sam slapped Dean on the back. “And buying the drinks for once ya big cheapskate.”

“Shut it Bitch, I may be easy but I ain’t cheap.”

“You shut it Jerk, and that’s ‘shut it bitch SIR’. I do still out rank you.” 

“You’re right, you do out rank me, only cuz your feet stink worse then mine oh SIR Bitch SIR.”

Brotherly love, brings a tear to your eye don’t it? Which reminds me, saw a copy of ‘More Then Brothers-Route 666’ in the PX the other day. It took every bit of change I had in my pockets to buy it, but tell you what.......Woooo hooooo! Dean-o getting it on with some alpha chick named Cassie Robinson....wait....isn’t that the name of the girl getting promoted? Weird co-in-se-dink. But anywho, he’s getting it on with that Cassie chick (full frontal too, damn) then his brother (double frontal) then the chick and his brother at the same time (triple frontal)?! All while fighting an evil truck. (Evil...truck....you gotta be shit’en me) DAY-YAM! I needed a cigarette after that paragraph. Becky Rosen, under those neat little sweater sets beats the heart of a true freaky deeken perv. I love you. 

On another more weirder note, the second Dr Sexy book-‘The Boots I came to Town In’ showed up in the PX too. Next pay day will pick it up....if it’s still there....behind the magazine rack where I stashed it.

Anywho, after the mates left, the party degenerated into manly men doing manly stupid stuff men do when they’re left alone together. Drink beer, pee, spit, tell lies about their sex lives and do aircraft carriers across the bar. Capt Robinson and the few female officers hung around long enough to get a buzz, then left where they could get their own freak on at some of the clubs down in the ‘vil’ with some alpha or beta guys (or girls) they would never have see again in the morning.

I stayed just long enough to get propositioned at least twice, groped once (he left the party early-broken fingers are such a party fart) and left to get wasted at home where if I had to, could stick my face in a toilet that I knew was clean enough to satisfy a Turkish cleaning lady. And no waiting. Understand there were hang overs galore the next day as most of CID came in looking like death warmed over. Course that’s when some sadistic son of bitch threw the fire alarm. (I swear I was no where near Dean’s office and Jeff is my witness, aren’t you Sweetie. Irv? See, he said he was with me all morning). 

The mortgage party a few days later was a bit more sedate (but not by much) and equally as interesting because got to meet all of the Turner pups as well as all the Turner, Washington, Becker, Fuchs and several other last name grandpups and even one of Tina’s two ex-mates showed up. (The first ex-mate took off and joined the French Foreign Legion, figuring it HAD to be easier then being mated to Tina. After knowing her just a short time, I could see his point.) The building had been in Helva’s family since shortly before World War One and it had taken that long to finally pay off the bank. German real estate is insanely expensive and world wars, depressions or the building being leveled in an Allied bombing raid be damned, that bank expected to be paid every month, no matter what.

The party was in the garden/back yard at the rear of their building. So not to get their neighbors on their asses, as this was a party on Sunday and had to make it passed ‘quiet time’ they simply invited the neighbors for five buildings in every direction. That way there were enough buildings and fences to buffer the noise so that even if some spoil sport did call the polizi, most of em were friends of the Turners any way. He’d give em a beer and a few barbecued pork necks and they’d be on their way.

So needless to say, Helva’s family didn’t mind in the least when she mated an Ameri with a steady job and who was willing to help support his in-laws. Who eventually left Rufus and Helva the business along with the mortgage. So happy day when the last check was written and the deed was finally in their names alone instead of the Berenberg Bank.

So as I said, got to meet Booker, Moses, Halei Selassie, Wheatley (he was suppose have been a girl named Phyllis), Harold and Boris-the sons. Tina, Betty, (whom I knew) Harriett, and Esther (who’d came in from Spain and Italy)-the daughters. Then there were all the mates, ex-mate, their pups and the working dog Betty’s mate couldn’t leave at home. As you never knew when you needed a slavering attack dog at a family get together. Except Rex the wonder hound was drunk off his hairy ass (never leave your glass of beer on the ground unattended) snoring under the azaleas within the first hour. 

Jeff was running around the yard with Odette, the cousins and neighbors pups. It was a good thing there was a five house buffer in every direction cuz those guys were yelling and screaming bloody murder. So as a responsible parent, I poured myself a very large glass of beer from the keg and wandered to the front of the building where Phil Washington, Bettys mate had the same idea to escape the ruckus. He was sitting on the stoop, beer in hand watching the world go by. Sat down next to him, “How goes things here in K-Town for an MP these days?” Tried very had to keep the envy out of my voice.

He shrugged. “About the same as most places here in the Fatherland; drug busts at the barracks, theft or destruction of government property, domestic disturbances-Jesus I hate those. They’re the worst. Would rather face some 200 pound troopie on a ledge hopped up on ‘Bennies’, then some 90 lb beta woman with a head full of curlers, amped on coffee and ‘mothers little helpers’ screaming about her old man drinking up their pay check. Then beating on us when we try to take the lunk head away.” Nodded in agreement, had seen that out at Fort Riley and again when I was riding along with the Rochester Police. Then Phil looked around quick to see if anyone was near enough to hear him. “There was something a while back that CID had asked us to keep an eye out for and then hushed it right up.”

Now he peaked my interested. “What was that?”

“Figured you being an omega, you’d mighta heard something. Not that there’s a lot of you people in these parts but it’s something passing strange.” Phil took a sip of his beer. “There were a couple of omega boys that turned up dead in the Lauter River last year. All of American ‘megas were accounted for and the few that are here in K-town, our liaison with the Polizi said they’d found the right number of noses.” (Wondered bitterly if the officers joked about going out to take ‘Sacrament’) “Then a week or so later, they said to forget about it, false alarm. That just didn’t sound right.” Then he smiled, “but I promised Dean-o, I’d still keep an eye out and ear to the ground.”  
“  
This rang a little bell, wonder if this something that might be part of what Mick Davies was talking about that night at the Marriott in Crystal City.* Ah alphas, the things they say AFTER sex can be more enlightening then what is said BEFORE. Phony omegas turning up dead in the rivers. Hmmmm didn’t know Dean was involved in the investigation. Would make sense being he’s CID. Do I say anything or just play dumb? Since you get more info by appearing surprised, dumb it was. “How awful! And there are so few German omegas that survived the camps and are currently being born.”

“But they weren’t German,” Phil went on. “Even if at first glance they looked like it from the outside. Blue eyes, blonde hair, the works. But the design of the tattoos they had gave the indication they were Berbers, probably from the Atlas Mountain Region of Morocco.” Then he looked rather troubled, “according to the anthropology professor that was brought in from the local university, they’re very tribal people and not at all prone to selling their own kind, even omegas. These boys were probably kidnapped.”

“How awful! What did they die of?”

“Don’t know. The case and all the support documentation was transferred out of our office. But from what the guys who pulled the bodies out of the river said, they must not have been in the water that long, as there were just minimal damage from from fish and parasites. And no obvious marks to indicate they’d been shot, stabbed or bludgeoned.” Phil took a big swig of his beer, “let’s not talk shop. Too depressing. It’s a party. Mom and Pop had worked too long and hard to have this day happen. To the Harlem Bakery! Long may she wave! Prost!” And we clicked glasses.

He’s right, this is a happy day and plus, I got what I wanted to know anyway. Which I can give Mick Davies to have him tell me a little more, with the correct kind of ‘persuasion’. He’d given me his personal answering machine phone number and said he’d be back in town the first part of June. Had a little errand to run for his Lordship across the pond. 

In the mean time, as he’d promised, John took Jeff and me on vacation the second week of May. Now Saarbrücken may not have been everybody’s first thought as a vacation spot, but to me it was just perfect. It’s a city within spitting distance of France, so you know there will a lot of attention paid to fine wine, beer and good food. Also, as a one time industrial and mining hub, it didn’t quite have the cachet of places like Munich, Bonn or Berlin. So that kept down the number of pesky tourists and military types who might recognize John.

Jesse went to stay the week with Ben. “Do your school work, no messing around and listen to what Warrant Officer and Mrs Winchester say.” I admonished. “Be a good guest and behave yourself at the concert.” He and Ben are still allowed to go to Paris for The Who show, but Lisa is their chaperone. Ha. Ha. Ha. She’s ‘wet blanket city’.

“Yes ‘Mum’,” he said wearily. Guess I’d been harping.....no. I don’t harp. I correct and comment. Dean gave me that ‘look’, the one that said, ‘yes Little Maid, you’re harping....knock it off.’ 

Shepherd picked us up about 10:00 o’clock Saturday morning the 12th of May. He’d come down by himself in the Bronco, no aides, no driver, just John Winchester on the Autobaun (with the Thompsons sub-machine gun under dash-he ain’t stupid-just paranoid.) He’d spent the night with Jenny and Lewiston and had a few comments (other then about my dearest Brit being insatiable) about the scuttle butt at First Corp HQ and that Jenny had yet to find a nanny. Or not one who’d met her satisfaction. Apparently there was something Ulysses got from me besides blue eyes. “I had no idea toxic shit was genetic.” John remarked dryly after locking up the apartment and heading down the stairs. “Apparently one woman went screaming out of Quarters Two so fast she lost her shoes and another demanded an exorcist.”

Had a good belly laugh over that, but also brought a tear to my eye and a clench to my heart. Sniffle. My boy is truly a Novac-Crowley.

Then out of the blue as we’d walked over to the Bronco.... “Wanna drive?” John said with a grin, holding out the keys. You don’t have to ask me twice, snatched those suckers from his hand and loped over to the car, jumping in the drivers seat, leaving him standing there holding Jeff and our duffel bags. Oh it’s so nice to have a car that has some shit and git. The Trabi can’t get out of it’s own way and don’t get me started on that cheap piece of commie shit when it comes to going up hills. I’ve had pups on tricycles pass me. Himmihargodzefixsaggramentallelujamilextamarschscheissglumpvarregts!!!  
(God almighty in heaven crucifix sacrament hallelujah kiss my arse shitty pile of junk may it rot miserably!!!) Amen.

You can always tell how well you get along with people when you travel with them. This obviously excludes the Novacs. We might as well have been ‘The Manson Family’ considering the lot of us pups were at each others throats or someone elses from the moment a trip began until the car, ship, bus or plane came to a halt at the destination. But then again, by that time, everyone else was ready to toss us off or out of that car, ship, bus or plane long before that. But, John was pretty good to travel with, especially now that I wasn’t pregnant. We smoked cigars, passed a bottle of breakfast beer back and forth and let Jeff sit on our laps as we drove down the autobaun. 

We also sang every clean song we knew (I knew two off the top of my head and John remembered four) and only hit on a couple of the more risque ones after the road noise put Jeff to asleep and he was laid down in the back seat. Hoped he was asleep anyway. Because the last thing I wanted him to came out with was any of the more grosser verses to ‘Barnacle Bill the Sailor’. It was suppose to have only taken an hour to Zinzinger Str. 9, 66117 the Saarbrücken Novotel, but made it in about 40 minutes.

The Novotel in town was on par with any Holiday Inn in most parts of the world. It was reasonably priced, conveniently located to most sights in town, clean and you wouldn’t start noticing its faults until a few days into the stay. But by that time you were ready to leave anyway. John had gotten a ‘family’ suite, meaning it was a regular room with a crib. As we were checked in, took a moment to look around the lobby. It was a goodish sized room with couches, chairs, coffee tables and potted palms sprinkled here and there. Reminded me of a large dentist office waiting room. On one side of the lobby was the entrance to the resterant and bar, on the other were the sliding doors to the out door swimming pool area. It stood empty and the deck chairs stacked neatly against the side of the building as it was still too chilly for a dip. 

Our room was on the second floor, thank the Alpha God it far enough away from the bank of elevators to avoid their noise. Room 24 (probably like the rest of em) was done in Danish modern, very plain but functional. Had one king size bed with a head board that had the bed side tables and reading lamps attached. A couple of generic landscape prints decorated the wall. Desk, chair, black and white TV and a couch with coffee table. As I said ‘Holiday Inn standard’.

But it was our little home away from home for the next five nights and six days. Speaking of the ‘man of the house’, he flopped down on the bed after dumping the bags on the carpet and stretched. “What do you wanna do first Lambkin?” 

After laying Jeff in the crib, I crawled in next to John. “Rest a minute and maybe russell up some lunch in the restaurant downstairs....do a little sight seeing afterward.” Then smirked, “wonder where they keep their version of the worlds largest ball of twine?”

“Fraid they don’t have one. Mores the pity.” We’re such barbarians.

“And I didn’t see any signs for ‘Pedro Sez’ on the way.” Worse yet, we’re American barbarians on vacation who would make the Vandals gasp and Visigoths faint with our lack of couth.

“Sorry, no tall ass Mexicans with short ass showers around here, so no ‘South of the Border’ for you.” All we need now are Bermuda shorts and loud Hawaiian shirts, the kind with naked hula girls on em.

Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so kind of dozed off in Johns arms. Woke up a little while to find Jeff had climbed out of the crib and cuddled up between us. He’d rooted open my shirt and had fallen asleep nursing, a tiny trickle of milk rolled down his pouty bottom lip. Mein General was awake, stroking his son’s chubby cheek with the back of a forefinger. “You are at your best when you’re pregnant. Full and ripe and fierce.”

“When I’m not throwing up, farting or leaking from every orifice.” Silly Alpha. He said this last time too.

“No,” John continued. “You really are at your best when you’re giving life. There is something about you that commands attention.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing like the sight of a pregnant man in uniform.”

“Arsch mit ohren.” He reached over and flipped the buttons opens on my shirt down to the top the maturity pants I still had to wear. Oh yeah, there is nothing better I wanna see then my saggy belly full of stretch marks. “You’re glorious with pup, commanding, difficult and alluring all at the same time. If I could, would have you pregnant all the while.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll take you to the vet to get tutored.”

“Heaven forbid that you would want to tamper with SUCH perfection.” He patted the front of his trousers. How could you not love this man? About this time, Jeff wakes up and fills his diaper. Oh thanks comrade for shitting in our collective corn flakes. Clamber out of bed, carrying him like a shopping bag under my arm, pick up the diaper bag in passing on my way to the bath and close the door behind me. No sense in stinking up the whole room, at least there’s a ceiling fan in here. Some day I’m going to find a food that that will make this boy poop rainbows and unicorns. But sadly, not it’s today.

Got Jeff cleaned up, washed and rediapered, geeze is it too early to start toilet training? Have to see what Doctor Spock sez. Came out to find John had turned on the TV and was watching a soccer match. “Who’s playing?”

“Beats me, but the guys in the white pants seem to be ahead.”

Watched a little more, “hmmm. Looks like Munich is playing Hamberger SV. Must be playing at Hamburg if Munich’s in the white pants. Those are the away uniforms.”

We watch a few minutes more before Jeff is tugging at John’s pant leg. “What’s the matter Sport?”

“Hungee, essen?” 

“Yeah, me too. Come on, let’s turn that off and get some grub before the little guy starts chewing on the chair legs. I’m feeling a bit peckish myself.”

So, went downstairs to the resterant, get seated at a table, a high chair brought for Jeff and handed menus. The description of the offerings were printed in German, French and English. I went for the salad, curry soup and Vichy water for now, beer later (no matter what mein General likes-gotta get rid of this gut) got Jeff the three little wursts, peas, French fries and Apfelsaft (which went straight into his sippy cup) John got the steak tartar and a Walsheim Beer. The waitress brought the drinks, asked if we wanted any thing else and then hustled away when John said we were fine danke (thank you). “So,” he turned held up his glass. “Here’s to us.”

“Prost,” I clicked the glass against his. “So what do you want to do after lunch?”

He took a sip of his beer (will just have a tiny sip of his....oops. Did I just guzzle that down? John flags down the waitress to order another and one for me.) “We could borrow one of those baby buggies the joint has and take a stroll around the block, or take a drive down the main drag of town to see what’s there. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Our food came out shortly and as we ate, noticed Jeff had been looking down at the floor and then trying to drop some of his fries over the side. “Lady hungee,” he said. Looked over and course I didn’t see anything other then some really ugly carpet.

“What lady?” I asked holding out my hand to catch the ones he dumped over the side of the highchair tray. 

“Hungee lady there,” Jeff pointed at the floor. Course still nothing. 

“Eat your fries Sport,” John said between bites of his tartar.

“Hungee Lady say she hungee!” Jeff is now louder and more insistent. People were starting to turn around and stare disaprovingly.

“Alright,” enough of this. Anything to shut him up quick. “Give her a fry for Alpha God’s sake.”

Watched him drop the french fry and it disappeared in mid-air. What the fuck?! “Give her another another one Jeff.” He did and the fry disappeared again.

“Neue Bremm Frauenlager.” Which shocked me, as my little boy still would say ‘Irv’ when short on words or speaking of ‘short’ would only pronounce part of a word like jump was ump. But here he coming out with this Bavarian tongue twister. If my surprise was great, the waitress walking by was even more so as she tripped over her own feet and dropped a full tray of steaming hot food to the floor. The plates that fell next to Jeff’s high chair were one moment full of food and the next moment looked like they’d been licked clean. “Jesus Maria!” The waitress squeaked, blessed herself before running back into the kitchen and a moment later, the manager came out. A rather imperious little middle aged beta man with a bad comb over.

He strode right up to our table, “you have to leave now. You’re disturbing our guests.”

And before John or I could say anything, Jeff blurted out, “Hungee Lady say you bad. Blockwart!”

“What does a ‘Frauenlager’ have to do with this hotel?!” John’s eyes went hard, as he watched the managers face turn purple. “Womans Camp? What kinda place are you running here?” The small tendril of frosty air that came out of his mouth partially answered his question.

Needless to say, not only did we get kicked out of the dining room, we were ceremoniously tossed from hotel. Money refunded (lunch was on the house-they just wanted us out fast) but kicked out just the same. “I’ve been pitched outta classier joints then this by better people you....BLOCKWART!” (gotta find out what that means) I hollered over my shoulder as we were escorted out the door by a couple of beefy bell boys. Good thing neither of us unpacked so it was just a matter of going upstairs, picking up the bags and leaving. Sat in the parking lot for a bit (the bell boys were stationed at the front door to make sure we didn’t try to come back in) trying to figure out what to do next. “Well, what now? Where do we go?” 

The answer was home. John turned the Bronco back toward K-town, “instead of doing something half cocked. Let’s just sleep on it, pull the maps out and decide where to go in the morning.” Was kinda bummed about the way our vacation started, had really wanted to get away from K-Town and spend some time with my alpha. “Don’t fret Lambkin,” John patted my knee. “There are lots of other places we can go that don’t sit on a prison camp.” Why did I get the feeling these fell into the ‘famous last words’ category?

Also quietly fretting because Jeff seems to be talking to someone in the back seat. Granted, for a pup his age to see a ghost or spirit is not unusual (saw em all the time in Panama) but the fact that what ever it is has followed him is a bit concerning. Okay, time to join this little tete- a-tete. Turned in my seat, “Jeff, who’re you talking to?”

“Hungee Lady.” 

“Okay, what you talking about?”

“Hungee Lady go home.”

“She wants to go home with us?” Oh hell no.

Jeff shook his head. “Go home Jersey”

Well if this spook thinks I’m taking her back to New Jersey, she’s got another thought coming. And told my son so.

“Hungee Lady say Sat Oh-wen, Jersey.” That doesn’t sound like any place in New Jersey I ever heard of.

“Okay, can we table this ‘woo woo’ stuff until WE get home?” John asked. “Where we can have a nice ‘normal’ conversation with this dead broad from the prison camp? We all okay with this?”

“Hungee Lady say ok but you a.......” What ever that word was, had the feeling there was not a bar of soap big enough to wash every ones mouth out. Shit, how has this become my life?

We get back Vogelweh shortly before 15:00....oops...03:00....on vacation time. Had stopped along the way for wursts, beer, milk and wine. Course that’s when a new complication pops into my life in the form of a cat. A small skinny black cat that looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in ages. Sad fact, in the housing areas people get pets, then when they go back to the states, just leave the cat or dog behind to fend for themselves because they can’t afford the fees to bring them along. Which looks like what happened to this poor guy.

“Kitty.” Jeff pointed as the cat jumped between our legs into the vestibule.

“He’s gotta go back out.” I can’t deal with this right now.

“Kitty hungee,” Jeff said again. “Want Kitty.”

“No. Sorry, life’s tough all over.” Yeah, sure. I need a cat like a big hole in the head. Who would take care of it when I go to the field? Have enough trouble getting Dean to watch Jeff for those occasions.

“Hungee Lady say kitty die soon.” Then Jeff turned his big green tear filled eyes on me and howled. “No die Kitty!”

Oh crap, make me feel about two inches tall. “Alright. Kitty can come in for a little while and then he goes back out.” Why do I get the feeling those are more famous last words?

John was smirking, scooping up the cat. “You know. I think our son needs a pet and poor Kitty here, needs a home.” Only cuz you’ll be leaving and I’m stuck with taking care of this critter you son of a bitch. “Why don’t you go out and get what Kitty needs and I’ll watch Jeff.”

I glare at the lot of em, “we’ll talk later. And you...” glowering down at the cat. “Scratch my dining room table and I’ll kick your ass so far off that balcony you’ll land dead center of Red Square.” So, went off to the PX to get some cat food, liter and a liter box. Couldn’t find enough canned cat food, so the lucky little bastard is gonna get tuna instead. Came back to find Jeff, John and the cat at the dining room table with several maps of Germany and France spread out in front of them.

“Think we found where our ‘Hungee Lady’ is from,” John motioned me over. “Sat O-wen has nothing to do with New Jersey but the Channel Islands. St Ouen is a town and parish on the island of Jersey.”

“Hold that thought,” I went into the kitchen, took out one of the tuna cans and got out the can opener from the junk drawer. Kitty was right there like a shot, crying and whiny twining around my legs. “Hold your darn water kid, it’s coming.” Dumped the tuna in a dish and set it down on the floor. The poor little thing ate so fast thought he...she...it? Was gonna throw up. Will have to look at the back end to see if there’s anything on this cat we should know about. Added a bowl of water next to the dish, set up the liter box next to the garbage can and then went back out to join the guys.

Jeff had crawled onto the table and was pointing at a spot on the map. “Hungee Lady say ‘there’.” Then he smiled, “Kitty no die now”.

“Well, glad to hear that,” course now have to keep the damn thing so it won’t die and ‘short shanks’ from making me feel like a heel if I don’t. “Anywho, Channel Islands?”

“Right here,” John pulled the map of France over and pointed to some small islands off the coast of France in the Gulf of Saint Malo, in the English Channel between Plymouth and Saint Lo. “There, that one, Jersey. Think I can guess how Madam Hungee ended up in our hotel dining room. The islands were and still are a dependency of the British Crown but during the war because they couldn’t be adequately protected the British military left and the locals were given the given the choice of leaving or staying. A lot left but then again, many stayed behind. The Nazis took over in 1940 and didn’t leave until the war ended in 1945. If you were a Jew or any other ‘undesirable’ you got shipped off. A lot of Russian pows were brought to the island as slave labor to build the fortifications. They were literally worked to death.” 

Looks like one of the little secrets of World War Two you didn’t get in the typical history books. “How did you know about all this?”

“It was an exercise at Norwich. How to defend land that was indefensible.” Then John turned back to the maps and continued, “I’m betting our hotel is on or near the site of a womans prison camp.” He looked over at Jeff, who nodded. “She died there and couldn’t move on, that is until now.”

“I’m impressed. You seem to have no problem with all this ‘woo woo’ stuff.”

“Neither do you.” John gave a sigh, “been around enough of this old world to have seen things that would curl your hair. Kate and I once laid out in a cemetery in Vietnam as part of an ambush, saw and felt stuff there that made us think twice about our plans. Thank the Alpha God the VC showed up to get themselves shot so we could get the fuck outta there.”

Oddly, the mention of Kate didn’t bother me much. Probably because there is now an ocean between her and MY General. “I’m from Panama, the supernatural is just a ‘natural’ part of life there. Nobody thinks about the way I found people in the States do. There most people think you’re crazy for believing in it.” Except that is if you’re one Pennsylvania ‘Pow Wow Doctor’ Sargeant Major or a ragin Cajan who shall remain nameless. Now looked at our little boy, who after all this needs some silver around his bed and to wear that dime Benny....er....nameless Cajan....gave me. 

“Okay,” John studied the map. “Looks like we’re going for a field trip across France, then take the ferry over to Jersey. Let me make a quick phone calls, one home to give Mary a low down on the hoe down,” (Must you? I suppose you must, damn it.) “Then get a little info from the folks at the office, as to a place to stay on the island.” While he went to the kitchen to make the calls, I took Jeff and his spooky buddy off to his room to take a nap. In the mean time, wanna do a little test. Walked back to my room and took the Mercury head dime out of its place in the jewelry box.

Came back and looped it around his neck. Hmmm, no fuss, muss, foul smells (other then the usual) or howling. “Christo! Christo! Christo!”. Nope, nothing. “Okay lady. Here’s the deal, we take you home, you leave my boy and never come back. Deal?”

Jeff nodded, “Hungee Lady say okay.”

“Cuz if you don’t, I know a few tricks you won’t like. Capeesh? You savvy?”

“Savvy.” 

“Okay, take a nap.” Oh the crap I do to keep peace in the family. Walk into my bedroom and found the cat had planted himself in the middle of the bed. He was purring and giving himself a bath. Had always wanted a pet growing up but Naomi-Mom and in tandem Zachariah vetoed it. The one gold fish I had ended up flushed down the toilet by Luci under the pretense that the fish had wanted to go for ‘a walk’. Really hate Luci. “Don’t get used to sleeping on my bed. You have a whole couch to shed on.” The cat looked up at me with his tongue hanging out, then as if considering my words, went back to his laundry. Dismissed by a cat, fuck. Now, I just tired, achy and settled in for my own nap.

About an hour and a half later, John woke me with news on our trip. (I’m really gonna hate seeing the phone bill for this month) “Okay. We’ve got reservations on the Sealink ferry on Monday afternoon to Jersey going out of St Malo to Port Helier. It’s a quick trip about an hour and a half. We’ll leave the Bronco at the St Malo dock, Mary is renting a car and picking us up......”

“WAIT A MOTHER FUCKEN MINUTE! WHAT DID YOU SAY?! MARY IS COMING!?” Even Kitty looked surprised and hissed at us as she...he...it...dove under the bed. “Now you’ve gone and scared the cat.” Went down on my knees to coax him...her...it...out. “Come on Honey, did the crazy man just scare you?”

“Depends on who the ‘crazy man’ is doesn’t it Kitty?” John was also peering under the bed and was doing his best to cajole the cat to him. “If he would give me half a chance to explain, it would all make sense.”

“Little puss, if it’s suppose to make sense, shouldn’t the crazy alpha start explaining quickly?”

“Kitty, let your new daddy know....” Then he stopped, “I’m using a cat as a proxy. I must be motherfucken nuts. Get up. Let’s try to be adults here.” He is right, damn it all to hell and back. So got up and sat down on the bed. The cat came out, scowled at us both, then with a flick of the tail, stalked out of the room, probably looking for a quieter, saner place to nap.

Took a deep breath, “now please explain to me, why Mary is going to be coming on OUR vacation?”

“Not all of it, just the Jersey part.”

“And again, why is she coming?”

“Jeff is her grandson and she wanted to make sure that he was going to be okay after having the spirit attached to him. Mary and he bonded when you were in the hospital over in Rintein.”

“I thought she drank a lot during that time.”

“She did. Slowed her down enough to see what a great little guy Jeff is.” Well, have to admit he came back from there with no physical marks of abuse, nor was he cowed in anyway if trying to do PLF’s off the balcony was any indication. Also little more polite, as he had all the attention of one person instead of having to share it with a horde of other pups.

“So she’s joining us ONLY on Jersey, no other part of the trip?”Held out my pinkie finger. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He hooked his pinkie against mine.

“Where are we staying on Jersey?”

“Apparently it’s a big tourist destination, so there are a lot of hotels. We’re set up in the Hotel Coralie.”

“Separate rooms I assume.” 

“Yeah.” Not that seeing he and Mary in bed together was high on my sight seeing list.

“You’ll excuse me for a moment.” I got up, walked down the hallway, grabbed my coat off the rack, slipped out the door and made the long torturous trip down the stairs. I really didn’t want to walk away but figured John wouldn’t care too much to have my fist in his moosh.

Before I could head out the vestibule double doors, heard a woman’s voice clearly say: “I suppose it would be rather unnecessary to say that life isn’t fair,”

Turned around as quickly as my questionable center of gravity would allow. “Who said that?” The voice was coming from behind me. Course there’s no one there. “Who are you?”

“Louisa,” the voice had a slow oddly British accent with French overtones that was short on ‘h’s’ on some words and found on others but long on vowels and irony. “I suppose you know me as ‘Ungee Lady’.”

“What? You can walk...float....appear where ever you want now?”

“Being that I’m across the Saar river, I no longer ave to be attached to a person to move habout. Mon Dieu Alpha, it’s marvelous!”

Hmmmm, this could be the answer to my little ‘Mary Mary quite contrary problem’. “So now that you’re not stuck any more, you just take yourself back to Jersey.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Heard a deep sigh that had the built in shoulder shrug the French are known for. “I can’t cross water without elp. It’s one those tiresome supernatural hules one ears about but doesn’t really fully appreciate until you’re stuck with em.”

Fuck. “And you can’t hitch a ride with someone else?”

“Not without an invitation and being your son was the first one to see and feed me.....oh that chip was lovely. Then that whole tray the waitress dropped, oh that took care of the ungries it did. I asked him if I could come with you and he said yes. Your pup is such a sweet lamb.” Remind me to talk to him about never talking to strange spooks unless I agree to it. “Oy vey, but I wouldn’t do for a Crunchie bar right now.”

“That was rude. You could’ve been evil.” What’s a Crunchie bar?

“But I’m not. I just wanted to get out and go ome.” Now felt waves of sorrow and anguish. “When the Jerries came, they brought their ‘orrible rules with them”.

“Couldn’t you get out before then?”

“My dad had lung disease, too hill to move and being the heldest, I stayed behind to care for him. Mum took my sisters and brother and left on one of the last ferries out. It wasn’t good for the first year and a half, they took our home and we had too pay rent to the Germans to be able to live in our own home. Then in April of 42 a Vingtenier came and we were told to pack our bags and report to the police station, we were being deported to France.”

“But why? What did you do?” 

“Can’t you guess? We’re Jews.” There was a choke and sob in Louisa voice. “No one fought for us, the Chef de Police gave us up with out a fight. Dad didn’t survive the crossing and they just chucked his body over the side like garbage. I was sent to Neue Bremm to be ‘sorted’ and broke. They worked us, beat us, we had to fight the pigs for food. One night was so ungry and tired of living I fell asleep and didn’t wake hup. Or I did, but not in the regular way.”

Have heard of this kind of thing before. Madraina Ada would tell stories of people who died in their sleep or too quick like and didn’t know they were dead for a while.

“I ‘woke’ up and found no one could see me. Which was very nice at first, but then I was still ungry and couldn’t leave when I tried to walk away. Would get right to the fence and it wouldn’t let me pass. This other dead woman came up and said we couldn’t get out, the bastards made it so that even dead we couldn’t get away. They made a deal with a sheidim, whom they fed children at the camp, it would keep us imprisoned.”  She snorted, “had to make a deal with our own spirits or the spell wouldn’t work.”

Wow, that sucked on so many levels.

“Any way, all I could do was watch, ocationally influence one of the guards and eventually fall back to sleep. Would wake up from time to time to see the world change, the camp taken apart, the war end and things being built up again, including that otel. But me and others couldn’t leave. The sheidims spell kept us trapped. Well, that is until your son. He saw me. The other little mullards saw me and the others and did nothing. Their parents told them we didn’t exist. But Jeff believed and I was free.”

“What about the others?”

“I suspect they’ll have an heasier time getting out now that a ‘ole been punched in the spell.” 

“I’m glad.” Honestly was. No one should have to suffer in death like that.

“So,” she said conversationally, changing the subject. “you seem a bit chuffed at that big lout up there.”

Snorted, “you might say that.”

“He’s mated to another and you’re the ‘little sister’, omega mate or piece on the side?”

Okay, now that’s just insulting. “No, I’m the omega mate.”

“Knew a few omegas in the camp. Poor souls, they were treated the worst and that’s saying something.”

Shuttered to think of the horrors they faced. Madam Francois, the omega who ran the finishing school I went to had been lucky, one of her Firsts hid her through out the war in Brussels. That man and his family are among those called ‘The Blessed Alphas’. Men and women who risked their lives to save omega kind. 

“You know, he’s walken a mighty thin tightrope. He’d have to be bloody Pablo Fanque to keep you lot ‘appy.” 

“Aw poor baby, that’s been my whole life ever since I presented.” Looked around fast, last thing I need is to have someone come down the stairs and see me talking to myself. That’s a one way ticket to the ‘rubber room’.

“Your man has to keep you ‘appy as well as the Mrs, all while trying to keep a job.”

“He’s a general.”

“La de da. Do you want me to troop the colours now?” Guess she’s not impressed. “My stars, you do make things difficult.”

Great, even the ghost has joined the ‘Why do you make things so hard club’. “I do NOT make things DIFFICULT!”

“Yeah, you kinda do.” Turned and found John standing behind me. “Got tuned into ‘Woo Woo Radio’ a few minutes ago.”

Aw shit on a shingle. Busted.

“How many times have we had this same argument for different reasons?”

Opened my mouth to protest, then......“A lot.”

“Do you even still wanna be mated to me?” 

“YES! I DO! But every now and again I’d like not to be the one always sucking hind tit.”

“Come on,” John put his arm around my shoulder. “Mind if we take this back up stairs instead of airing our dirty dainty drawers in public? And Louisa?”

“Oui mon General?”

“Shut down ‘Woo Woo Radio’ for a while.”

“You take all the fun out things,” she pouted. “But alright,” our ghost went off the air.

So we went back upstairs to the apartment and once the door closed, John ran a hand through his hair. “What was I suppose to do? Tell Mary not to come?”

Of course there was a HUGE part of me that wanted to say YES! This is MY time! You’re MY alpha not hers! But, this would just prolong the fight, prove that I keep regurgitating the same argument over and over again, be the jerky little omega who needs to keep being reassured and it would be another hour before we’d make up and have.......sex. Hmmmmmmm.... “Since she’s gonna be there anyway whether I like it or not let’s just cut to the chase, you wanna fuck now or later?”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting. Knocked the wind right out of his sails and here my Shepherd was ready to herd cats instead of sheep. “What?”

“Sex? Carnal relations?” The expression on John’s face was priceless. “You know. Knocking boots, bumping uglies, joining giblets, smacking the salmon......”

“playing Chesterfield rugby,” a voice chimed in.

“LOUISA!” We both yelled, looking in different directions. “GET OUTTA HERE!” 

“Just trying to ‘elp,” she grumped. “You don’t have to bite a girls ‘ead off. Just making sure you too weren’t fight’en and making up too loud to waken hup Jeff.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “we shall keep the noise down to a sufficient level where Jeffery will not be awakened. But you need to am-scray before I stuff you in peanut butter jar and throw you down the nearest sewer.”

“You know how to do that? I’m impressed.”

He gave my ass a healthy swat, “I know something else that’ll make you impressed.”

“Really? Tell me more.” And John dropped his pants. 

“Ooooooooooo la la, I wouldn’t be kick’en him out from between the sheets too soon.”

“LOUISA!”

The next morning we started out for Jersey before first light. It’s not that I’m glad that Louisa has chance to find peace and make her way to Olam Ha Bah, but the ‘dead fish meter of house guests’ has just hit ‘really stinks’ and it’s only on the start of the second day. Being it’s over a 10 hour drive and our ferry doesn’t leave until around 14:00, okay still on maturity leave....so it’s 02:00 in the afternoon on Monday, will stay the night in Paris. Which sounds romantic, until you factor in a toddler and a nosy ghost. Oh yeah, that’s a bucket of cold water for ya.

Ben and Jesse have been recruited to take care of Kitty while we’re gone, Dean will take over for the weekend the boys and Lisa are The Who show. They’ll come over to feed, hoe out her liter box and play with her so she won’t get bored and scratch the furniture. Jesse was rather excited about it. “We never could have a pet, the closest we ever came was when we were in Hong Kong and Dad was drunk and brought home an armadillo. He never got a name but was right tasty with chili and lime sauce.” 

I get to drive again, oh yeah! Me and the old A4 headed across Germany and into France. As we passed Saarbrücken, could feel the temperature drop in the Bronco. It wasn’t until several kilometers down the road when the car warmed back up. That’s when ‘Woo Woo Radio’ came on line. “More have escaped.” Louisa said breathlessly (good trick when you don’t have a breath anymore) “The sheidem’s spell has weakened and won’t be anything left of it soon so the last of the souls can escape.”

“Good, about time.” Hope they all do and not have some stay behind because they’re too afraid or damaged to move on.

The cities and towns whiz by, fields and vineyards dotted the landscape. The sun was out and Spring was in the air. Oddly enough, when she wasn’t providing supernatural air conditioning, Louisa was not a bad traveling companion. She kept Jeff entertained and knew enough clean songs to keep the hits coming from ‘Woo Woo Radio’ If you didn’t mind the hits from the 30’s. Well right up till this one:

Folks here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher,  
She was a red hot hoochie coocher,  
She was the roughest, toughest frail,  
but Minnie had a heart as big as a whale. 

Wow, she has kind of a nice voice and Jeff liked the ‘Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi’ part.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey.  
She loved him though he was cokie,  
took her down to Chinatown  
and he showed her how to kick the gong around. 

Wait a minute! I don’t want him to hear stuff like that until he’s a whole lot older. “Hey, pick a different song there ‘Minnie’.”

The ghost sniffed. “Mon Dieu Alpha, you folks is the silliest lot about some things.”

“Just pick another.” 

“Down in the meadow in a little bitty pool  
Swam three little fishies and a mama fishie too  
“Swim” said the mama fishie, “Swim if you can”  
And they swam and they swam all over the dam” 

“Better.”

“ Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi!” Jeff is not letting go of that.

Rolling into Paris about 01:00 in the afternoon, it took another hour before we found the hotel, as the map in the glove box was 20 years old and things had changed a smidge. Not that getting lost in Paris is a bad thing, just it’s not a fun thing. Not when Jeff needs a diaper change, even Louisa cleared out with a loud “Mon Dieu Alpha!” when that diaper over flowed. Found a place to pull over, the boy cleaned up, rediapered and the dirty diaper heaved into the Seine. Considering how nasty that river is, one more toxic bit of sludge ain’t gonna kill what ever is still alive in there.

We had a room waiting for us at the Relais hotel du Vieux. “Damn, I remember back when this joint was Hotel Le Flea Bag.” John said nostalgically as we walked up to the building after finding a place to park the Bronco for the night. “Poets, writers, drunk GI’s and hop heads would be the only one’s who stayed here.” 

“How drunk were you that time you stayed?” I asked innocently.

“Very,” he confirmed.

The lobby had pictures of the poets and writers who’d stayed there. A lot of em were Americans. Studied each picture intently. “Jack......Kerouac?” Who’s he?

“A guy who sent thousands of young men ‘On the Road’,” John said looking over my shoulder at the photo. “With Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty.” He huffed a laugh, “Dean and Sam both read it think they were about 17 and 13 back when we were stationed out at Fort Riley. They made it all the way to Topeka before heading back. Found out you run out of money real fast when you’re on the road. It’s as not romantic as it makes it out in the book to be cold and hungry.”

“I coulda told you that,” sniffed at the black and white photo of the author as he posed studiously looking at the offerings on a juke box. “Why do you think Gabe and I lifted wallets if we wanted to go anywhere?”

“Or some of us had to do worse,” added Louisa. Don’t wanna know what she had to do to survive that short time in the camp.

John checked us in and we went up to the second floor to our room. Opened the door to find a sitting room (oh, it has a bar) bedroom with king size bed, bath with large tub and opened the window off the bed room to find a tiny balcony. One just big enough to fit two small chairs and cafe table. It was soooo much better then the Novotel for just a smidge more money. “This is nice,” I sighed happily setting down the diaper and Jeff’s little duffel bag next to the bed. Went over to the window and swung open the doors, a narrow busy Paris street was below us, across the road was the Syndicat National dle la Libraire Ancienn et Moderne. Boy did I massacre that pronunciation. 

“The National Library of the old and Modern Bookstore,” John translated the sign for us. “Any book you can think of is for sale in that building,” mein General came up behind and put his arms around my waist. “Obviously for a pretty penny, but for hand transcribed bibles, Jules Verne and Hemingway with inscriptions in the authors own hand along the margins it’s the place to go. Even if all you can do is just to look at them behind the glass and be in awe.” He slid down the back of those damn stretchy pants I was still having to wear but now, they seemed like a good idea. “Bet they even have Erwin Rommels books,” could feel his hard on slide from the cleft of my bottom into the now slick drenched furrow. "Gefechts-Aufgaben für Zug und Kompanie : Ein Handbuch für den Offizierunterricht"! Combat tasks for platoon and company: A manual for the officer instruction in infantry training)” Then he made each word sound sinful....”And they have leather couches” 

Oh Alpha God! I’m gonna cum right there! Books have always been weirdly sexy to me, add leather and Erwin Rommel, I would strip naked in the street for my alpha. Speaking of, his one hand traveled across one fleshy hip to cup my balls and then fist my dick. Yes folks, they are back and ready for action! That first week home had made sure that everything dropped back into place and the tender darlings were serviceable. No more looking like a ‘Ken’ doll for me. Now they were super sensitive to the touch and a feather would make me jizz like a fountain let alone John’s full warm palm and fingers. His other hand in the mean time had not been idle. Not when it loosed the shirt buttons so that a breast could be coaxed out of the nursing shirt, the milk leaking between his fingers.

“No fret,” heard Louisa giggle. “Got Jeff ‘ere in the loo keeping him busy, now go do your nasty.” Oh crap had forgotten about him and the ghost in that moment.

“Since she’s got him corralled for the time being,” Shepherd nipped, sucked and kissed an earlobe. “We can do this,” our pants went down around our ankles and that wonderous big cock of his nosed it’s way into my pinks. Know it’s only been a month since giving birth but never have I wanted something so bad, that the pleasure will out wiegh the pain. Besides, am back on suppressants and birth control, and have not missed a day yet. 

“Go slow Baby,” I crooned, as he rubbed that big bulbous head across my little ‘welcome mat’.”  
The friction was sending electric shocks of delight through my body, making it all the harder to not let loose. “Make it last.”

“How can I go slow with you?” John whispered back. “Not when you got me revved up and rare’n to go.” He pushed full in and the same time running a thumb over the slit of my cock. “Not when I’ve got all Paris watching.” Oh ho, so that’s where Ben gets it from. Winchesters, a bunch of exhibitionists in gay Paree. 

Pushed back and took a few quick retreating shuffling steps till the bed caught the back of his knees allowing John to sit down. This time our ventures into post pregnancy sex didn’t hurt as bad as last year when my Shepherd rogered his Little Flock. The doctor at Rintien didn’t do an episiotomy or sew me back up as tight as the one in Rochester. I suppose having a bunch of drunked up angry squadies looking over your shoulder will do that to a person. They all thought Ulysses birth was a marvel, (only two of em fainted) well, all except one bloke who’d come off a farm. His comment after studying the operation with an experienced eye, was that it wasn’t much different then a sheep, except not as wooly. Before they left or were kicked out, more then likely the beer ran out first, the squadies left my little boy one of their berets and pinned jump wings to his blanket. 

So now, back to our regularly scheduled sex scene.....I’m primed and ready for MY man, pulled the shirt over my head so that my shoulders were bare. Had on the sexiest nursing shirt in the drawer and Johns nimble fingers undid the clasps with ease. “Bitte mien Honigbär bitte.”

“Mien Schatz,” he growled possessively. Mating teeth sliding down, so that the sharp edges scratched the skin of the mating scar. Soft lips and knife like teeth on tender flesh as his knot caught inside of me and jettisoned its load. My turn came shortly as slick and cum coated his fingers and hand. We fell back on the bed hearts pounding and panting like we’d raced full tilt around the block.

“Ah bah crie, are you finished yet?” Louisa called from the bathroom. “Cover up cuz I’m letting the little bugger out.”

“Oh shit,” I lurched over trying to reach the blanket and was snapped back by the knot still hooking us together. “Come on, move it! Just scooch forward a bit so I can grab the blanket before Jeff and Louisa get out here.”

“All right, all right, give me a minute,” John grumbled. “On three...one, two, three.” And we shifted over about a foot. “There get the blanket.” I tossed it over just as the door opened and Jeff speed out and made a flying leap on to the bed. Course with all the accuracy that Murphys law will allow, he dove fists first right into my crotch. Saw stars, planets and Haileys goddamn Comet as every inch of my body was in instant excruciating pain. Suspect every dog started howling, mice running for the hills and garage doors flung open for miles around as I screeched like an engine on an Alouette helicopter. Oh crap, everything hurts, oh double damn, I’m gonna be sick. That’s when the waste basket from the bathroom comes flying across the room on to the bed.”

“Poor lamb,” Louisa said sympatheticly as I blew chow. “Good thing you’re an omega, or you woulda been nobodies dad after that.”

“Come here Jeff,” John got the squirming pup to the other side of the bed. Let’s leave Papa alone for a moment.” Good trick considering the knot is showing no signs of going down. Course that’s when his little nose picks up the scent of.....something....and it kicks on his primal (why not, the pup came into being because of a mating fugue) ‘defense of what’s his’ instinct. Without not knowing why, Jeff growls at his father and shows his teeth. Oh man, oh man...Rufus was right. This boy is an alpha and because of that, he’s gotta learn there’s a pecking order. Dominance kicks in and John shows his teeth along with a puff of scent. Boy’s gotta learn you don’t mess with the big dog.

Jeff’s expression changed, as if his little brain was processing something familiar in a different form. “Who?” My little man chirped.

Oh crap, gotta a figure a way of getting him to say something else when ever he’s encountered by an adult alpha. “That’s your Daddy, that who and no you don’t stand reveille in a tree”. Well, didn’t that came out bad. Okay, this mishghana has got to end right now! Gave a yank and pull myself off the knot, hissed a little, it hurt some, not in the same ball busting league as getting a heavy pup to the nads, but close. All righty friends and neighbors, that’s it, “nappy time” and blew scent across his nose. “Growing boys need their rest.” Some day that might just stop working, but in the mean time, I’ll use what I got. “And their poppa needs to recover.”

In the mean time, John had gotten up, went to the bathroom (if the wolf whistle from Louisa was any indication, without his pants) and came back a few minutes later cleaned up with a cool damp wash cloth. “Here, put this on your nuts, it’ll help.”

“Thank you Shepherd,” slipped it under the covers and to my poor abused boys. Ahhhhh, that did feel better.

Helped enough that I was able to get up about an hour and half later without too much pain to join the rest of the family for dinner. We were taking a stroll down the avenue to a resterant called the Le Coup-Chou, which the desk clerk said was only an 11 minute walk from the hotel on Rue de Lanneau. Got to the corner of Blvd St Michel and in front of one of the numerous bars that sat cheek to jowl with each other, was a line of motorcycles. In that line sat a bright red comet of a bike, that looked like it was going a million miles an hour standing still.......with the keys in it. “That’s a beautiful Moto Guzi.” I sighed. “Looks brand new.”

“Nice ‘crotch rocket’,” John said conversationally, walking a little closer to it.

“Did I ever tell you the story about when my brother Gabe and I ran away to Paris, stol.....‘borrowed’ a motorcycle and rode the wrong way down half the streets in this burg?”

“Several times,” Mein General was looking rather intently at the bike. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mary and I ‘borrowed’ the post commanders Nimbus Lexus, rode down to Kansas City to get mated?”

“Think I missed that story,” I said sweetly. Sure, wanna hear ALL about that one. “You know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“I sure as shit do,” my mate was the picture of mock offense. “Kicked it over with the motorcycle platoon back in Riley several times.”

“It is tempting.” Inched closer to the bike.

“It is.” John had picked up the leather jacket that had been draped over the seat of the motorcycle, slipped it on. It fit a little loose but when he zipped himself and Jeff into it, the jacket it was just right.

“But we’re adults now.” I swung a leg over the side. Hmmm comfortable passengers seat.

“And responsible members of the US Army.” John mounted up in front of me.

“And have our pup with us, we really should be setting a good example.” Put my arms around his waist.

“Ah hang!” Louisa exploded in our ears. “Borrow the ruddy thing already and be done with it!”

“ROOOOOOM ROOOOOOOOM! SOME BITCH!” Hollered Jeff excitedly, as the engine roared to life, the bike popped a wheelie and we were blasting down Blvd St Michel like rocket. Didn’t wanna look back to see if the owner of the bike had come out, all we want to do is go for a quick ride and bring it back. Some time.....in an hour....or two...if we don’t drop it in a fountain or the Seine. Nah, we’ll bring it back, maybe...tonight.

There is nothing like Paris on a late Spring Sunday afternoon. Racing up the boulevard, past a large park....well, into the large park, along the walk ways and around this big pond. People were yelling at us, shaking their fists and yelling a bunch of stuff I only caught half of. “That one in the pink sweater you sent into the fountain was saying you’re the bastard get of a ‘collaborator horizontale’, barely heard Louisa’s voice over the sound of the wind and engine. “That was nasty of her to say. We called those girls ‘jerry bags’. Women who got overly friendly with the enemy.”

I remembered seeing pictures of what happened after France and Belgium were liberated. Women who had slept with the Germans had their head shaved or were tared and feathered or even executed.

Well, guess someone got to a phone booth to call the cops, because the ‘wee wooo’ of police sirens was soon heard in the distance. Took em long enough. “We gotta lose em fast”, heard John yell. “We’ll headed back to the Latin district, can use those narrow, little streets and alleys to our advantage.” Then he kicked the bike in the ass and we high tailed it back the way we came, knocking old pink sweater back in the fountain before heading out the main entrance and down Blvd St Michel.

Ditched the bike on a side street in the Latin Quarter in front of a bookstore that had shut down for the day. Lucky for us, being late on a Sunday, the majority of the shops had closed so the street was mostly deserted of tourists and locals. Nonchalantly, we got off and stood the bike up on its pegs. John put the leather jacket back across the seat, I took out the head covering that I kept in the jacket pocket in case of emergencies, spit on it, then wiped our prints off the tank, handle bar and sissy, before tying the cover over my hair. Louisa did her part by getting Jeff singing:

Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques,  
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?  
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!  
Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. 

Okay, it came out more like ‘ferris ocka’ and instead of ‘ding dang dong’ it was ‘Irv, Irv, Irv’ as well is should be. So here we are: an alpha mate, father and provider, his dutiful omega mate walking two steps behind him and their happy little pup riding on his fathers shoulders singing happily. The perfect picture of tourists after a long day of sight seeing in ‘The City of Lights’. The cops we ran into once we got back to the main street, didn’t give us a second glance. Or when they did, it was to ask if we’d seen the thieves who stole a motorbike and ‘terrorized’ the citizens in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

Of course we were ‘shocked, shocked I tell you’ of such a scandalous thing happening! But no, we didn’t see anything, weren’t any where near it in fact.

John and I held character (Jeff and Louisa were still singing ‘ferris ocka’) until we got back to the hotel, up the stairs and were safely behind a locked door before falling on the bed busting a gut laughing.

“Goddamn!” I gasped holding my sides. “You were like Steve Fuck’en McQueen out there!”

“I was wasn’t I?” John was just modesty itself.

“You were the ball room blitz!”

“You damn betcha Red Ryder,” he preened like a peacock.

“And sexy as hell.”

“Come on Jeff,” Louisa sighed resigned to her fate as the amuser of small pups while their parents fuck like mink. “Back to the bath. Goodness, have seen rams and hewes in Spring time less randy then you two.”

We did get to dinner.....eventually.

The next morning got off to an almost early start, as had to get in a quick breakfast and a ‘quickie’ or two...three. FOUR! It was FOUR times, are ya happy now?! So I was walking with a decided limp and would be sitting rather gingerly in the passengers seat of the Bronco. A combination of a knock in the nuts and a whole lot of knotting would tend to do that. John for his part was sporting a slightly sore lower back.

“If it ‘urts in the back,” snarked Louisa. “Don’t do hit in the front.”

“I can’t wait to dump your sorry spectral ass back on that island.” John had enough of ‘Woo Woo Radio’ for the morning. “.”Where you can beat feet to Heaven or haunt some other poor sucker why don’t ya.”

“Bet you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“Bet I won’t.”

“Sure you will. I grow hon people.”

“Like fungus among gus. I’ll miss ya like a case of the clap.” John squirmed in the drivers seat trying to get comfortable.

“Children,” I interrupted wearily. “Far be it from me of all people to be considered the voice of reason here, but can we seriously get this show on the road? We got five hours hard driving to St Malo, not to mention fighting Monday morning traffic trying to get outta this here burg.” That shut everyone up for the time being. Except Jeff, he was singing happily. Only he was now doing ‘hi di hi di hi di ferris ocka. Oh please will someone tell me why this is my life? Suppose it could be worse, he could be singing about the ‘wheels on the bus go round and round.’

Pulled into the parking lot of the Sealink Ferry dock with about a half hour to spare. Went into the terminal building, got in line for the ticket counter and waited until it was our turn at the desk, where John picked up our reserved tickets. Then we went to the entry point gang way. “Passeports et billets de ferry, messieurs, s'il vous plaît.” (Passports and ferry tickets gentlemen, if you please) the man at the counter asked.

John pulled out his passport, I had to produce not only my passport but mating papers, emancipation documents, along with Jeff’s passport and birth certificate showing he ‘belonged’ to John and me. Do not envy Jenny and Lewiston the day they travel with Ulysses. That yardstick long birth certificate is gonna cause a major freak out to what ever immigration officials that are gonna look at it. Would not want to be the people standing behind the Reynolds that day.

Anyway, our papers were given the once over heavily before being allowed to board. Louisa made her displeasure with the counter guy known with a gust of frigid air, sending his papers flying all over the embarking area. “He reminds me of the ruddy Colînmachon what took my papers the day Dad and I were deported.

Our tickets were for the general seating area. There were wooden benches lining the walls and in rows across the room. Wide windows gave a view of the shore, St Malo and the open water once the ship got going. There was a light rain falling so there wasn’t much to see except gray clouds and grayer ocean. A snack bar in the middle of the room was selling hot drinks, wine and overpriced baguette sandwiches. The souvenir shop next door was selling cheap trinkets and t-shirts made in Japan even though they said ‘Jersey and Guernsey’. 

Thank goodness we’d stopped along the way at a bakery on the outskirts of Paris and picked up a loaf of bread, some cherry jam and butter. Opened the tailgate to use as a table and there in front of the bakery had a breakfast picnic. Parisians love their coffee, so was able to get a superior cup at the cafe next door. Now at least there was something on our stomachs so wouldn’t be paying top dollar...er....franc for subpar chow. Though John did spring for a cup of nasty coffee for us big people and some hot chocolate for Jeff as the air had taken a distinct chill because of the rain or maybe it was Louisa. We passed the Styrofoam cups back and forth taking sips, huddled together like kittens on a warm brick.

“I love you Lambkin, you know that.” John said quietly, nuzzling my cheek. “More then you can realize.”

“I know Shepherd,” I answered softly. Okay, where was this leading?

“Today is gonna be hard on you. Tonight even harder. But remember we have the rest of this week to be together.” Then he tipped up my chin to ghost his lips to mine. “Do know the last time I took some vacation time with Mary that wasn’t at home or at relatives?”

Not that I gave a fat flying fuck, “I don’t know. Maybe a year or two?”

“Ten years ago when we were stationed in DC. We took a long weekend and went to the Smoky Mountains. Rented this little cabin near a place called Grassy Fork. Just a little pissant place in the middle of the Cherokee National Forest. It was a wonderful time.”

Well that’s a big woop de do. I’d like to counter that with the fact Naomi-Mom and the Colonel never took us on anything that anyone would consider a vacation and that I’d never been on an ‘official’ holiday...unless running away to Paris that time counted. Which was roughly about 10 years ago, so guess Mary and I are even. 

He took my hand and kissed the finger pads. “It’s one day and one night. After that, we can go where ever you’d like. Up the coast, across the channel or......Would you like to go see Ulysses?”

My heart jumped, “yes! Yes, want to see him! Please! Miss him so much!” Then slyly, “and maybe ‘see’ Jenny and Lewiston too?”

“Little Minx.” John nipped my finger pad. “Would’ve loved to have been there to see her ‘raising from the dead’ trick she pulled when you dropped at Sam’s place. I understand Jess took notes and they were so ‘educational’ that Sam was too embarrassed to show them to me.” Then he snickered, “must have been SO educational that Jess is three months pregnant. Got the call before coming down here.”

“Let me put it this way,” I whispered conspiratorially. “Jess went all ‘native’ in her ‘studies’ that day. After what we did, Sam could’ve tossed his pants over the bed and she would’ve got knocked up in a heart beat. Two omegas with pheromones in high gear, that girl’s birth control didn’t stand an icebergs chance in Hell.”

“You and Jenny MUST show us how you did it,” John stood up suddenly taking off his jacket and holding it in front of his pants zipper. “I have to step outside for a moment. Come on ‘Casper the Annoying Ghost’, I gotta cool it before I get Jeff growling again.”

“With pleasure, ya randy old goat. You could knock a ruddy barn door down with that club.”

The trip across the Gulf of St Malo was uneventful except for the rain and the fact I was getting a little sea sick. Funny, never got motion sick before on a boat, (or anything else for that matter) but then again the last time was on one for any length of time I was maybe 4 or 5 years old. The coffee was starting to sit kind of badly on my stomach, bad enough where I was out the door next and leaning over the rail to toss breakfast and coffee down about three stories and into the murky water.

Then, as if the ship crossed some invisible line, the rain stopped the sun came out and the island of Jersey came into view. “Mum always said,” Louisa voice came into my ears. “When it rains in France, the sun shines in Jersey.” Glad she’s happy. “Buck up lad, we’re almost there.” The bay we steamed in to was full of motor and sail boats of every size and shape moored to long docks. The city of St Helier spread out from the shore line and up the surrounding hills. The ferries that made the run from other ports in France and England were docked in their designated slips at the Port of Jersey, Elizabeth Terminal. Our boat pulled into its slip and a few moments later in French and English, the voice over the loud speaker announced our arrival, to make sure we had all our belongings and that those with motor cars would disembark shortly. 

Speaking of, the area we foot passengers came into reminded me a lot of an airport terminal; with travel posters lined the walls advertising the holidays the ferry lines could take you to, the ticket counters and the overhead calls for section boarding. And people acted like they were in an airport too. There were noisy reunions of people greeting relatives, lovers kissing with the passion in public that you could only do in an airport and.....Mary. Had never met her in person but had seen enough pictures around Quarters One when I was staying there that one summer that I knew the woman on sight. ‘Oh joy.’

How should I describe John’s alpha mate? She’s middle aged, still blonde (probably out of a bottle) trim for a woman her age (probably has The Jack La Lanne Show memorized) a few lines in her face (probably smothered in Canadian or Greek Preparation H) but not the bulldog look most generals mates end up with. Dressed well but simple in navy blue suit jacket with a forthright brooch, tan pants and a crisp white blouse. Effortless yet planned. Like the outfits Naomi-Mom wore and still does when she’s out for a low key day of intimidation with ‘the girls’.

“John!” She gushed running into his arms like he’d been gone for years instead of a couple of days. The look on the man’s face was mixture of happiness and dread.

“Ooooo, lets get hout the popcorn and pour on the caramel,” Louisa snickered. “Last time I saw such a high wire act was at the flickers before the Jerrys closed the cinema house down.” Woo Woo Radio must have been in full broad cast mode because John was now scowling at the empty air and Mary was looking around to see where the voice was coming from.

“Mrs Winchester,” I stepped out just to the left of where I was standing behind John. “Good to finally meet you in person.” (No it’s not but formalities have to be kept up) “The voice you heard was that of Louisa, late of the Island of Jersey and the hell of the spectral concentration camp, she is the person that Jeff gripped tight and raised up from perdition.” Okay, loaded it on a little thick, but my darling boy deserved the credit.

“Nice to finally get to meet you too Lt Novac,” Mary’s smile was small and didn’t leave her mouth. So we’re playing VERY formal and I might as well be one of John’s aides instead of omega mate. Then turning to find a point where the air seemed the coolest without being near an entry way, her voice and face softened, “hello Louisa, welcome home.” 

“Mama!” Jeff wiggled out of my arms, got down to the floor and toddled over to her. “Kith!”

“Hi Sweetheart!” She squatted down and let Jeff put his arms around her neck and sloppy puppy kisses on her cheeks. “How’s my boy today? Did you miss me?”

“Mama?” The smile I’d plastered on my face was beginning to crack.

“Yes,” Mary said coyly standing and taking Jeff’s hand in hers. “No one could believe I could be a grandmother”, (I could, ya old bat) “so our little man here calls me ‘Mama’.”

Turned to my mate, who looked like he wanted to turn right around and run, not walk, back on the ferry, “Mama?” I asked in a nasty nice voice.

“Hey, look at the time,” John, good military man that he was, figured NOW was the time for the better part of valor and made a show of looking at his watch. “If we’re gonna get to Louisa home and to our hotel, we’d better step on it. Okay, troops, chop, chop, bali, bali, let’s go.” Then he grabbed up Jeff and marched off....in the wrong direction. Which brought another military axiom to mind: ‘do something, even if it’s wrong’. 

The Ford Cortina she’d rented from Falles Car Hire was a station wagon, so our bags could go in the cargo space and I was relegated to the back seat as the front only had bucket instead of a bench seat. As we drove out of the car park, Mary explained how she’d gotten here yesterday and had done some leg work that included visiting the local historian and the rabbi here in St Helier. The historian, who wasn’t exactly forth coming at first but with a little local apple brandy Mary’d picked up as a ‘get in the door gift’ and flattery, the guy opened up. She had gotten to see the records of who was deported, there were several Louisas, but only one who was Jewish. “Louisa Marr and her father Edward were deported on April 23rd, 1942.” A sob that would tear your heart out filled the car and sent tears streaking down all four of our faces. 

Mary pulled the car over, leaned her forehead against the steering wheel as her shoulders shook as she wept. John put an arm around his mate, leaned in and pulled her to his chest. I was hugging Jeff, as he wailed, “Hungee Lady!” He hadn’t gotten his mouth around ‘Louisa’ so ‘Hungee Lady’ she stayed. “Hungee Lady saaaaaaaad!”

It took a while for the lot of us to calm down, we’d used up every kleenex in Marys purse and were down to our sleeves by the time the crying had turned to snuffling, Mary was able to continue. “Talked to the local rabbi to see if there was any further information about the Marr’s. After the war, Louisa’s family came back and tried without success to regain their property. Louisas Mother went back to Portsmouth were the family had been staying during the war and where she still lives. Her sisters, one moved to Ireland and mated a constable in Dublin, the other mated an American service man and is now living in Toledo, Ohio.

“That would probably be Eleanor who mated the Yank,” Louisa commented. “She did always ‘ave a turn for ‘exotic’ men.” 

Some how never thought of a guy from Toledo would be considered ‘exotic’. Aaron, the brother went to the complete other side of the world and is a bridge worker in Sidney, Australia. 

“Sounds like somethin he’d do. Tell ever one to find a nice cozy seat in Sheol and sit there and rot. Does Mum know what happened to Dad and me?”

Mary shook her head. “Apparently all the rabbi could tell her was that you were deported and little else. Any records of your fathers death and those of Neue Bremm Frauenlager appear to have been lost or destroyed. I’m sorry.” This set about a whole new set of wailing, thank goodness for the little shop on the corner where Victoria Ave ran in to St Albin and St Pierre, John got out and brought out a package of Andrex toilet paper. 

“Here,” he tossed us each a roll. “It was cheaper then buying a box of kleenex and there’s more of it too.” With that, he rolled off a big chunk and gustily blew his nose. By the time the Cortina pulled in front of Louisas house on La Ruette Des Mannaies, the floor of the car was covered in snotty, tear soaked toilet paper. It had been quite the emotional journey as the ghost had pointed out every land mark or lack there of.

“There,” she said when we came into view of a small country lane. “Pull in there, that’ll lead up to my ‘ouse.” The place we drove up to was a large two story stone home, with a large lawn, flower beds, it was quite beautiful there in the setting sun. “Oh my,” Louisa was in awe. “It’s been poshed up bit since the last time I saw it. How queer it is not to ‘ave the front yard hall full of grass and not garden.” She pointed to spots on the lawn where it had been dug up for cabbages, carrots and tomatoes.

Mary stopped the car in front of the house and the lot of us got out, Louisa still going on about the changes she was seeing and the few things that were the same. About then an older woman came out the front door with a watering can. She noticed the car, set the can down and walked over. “Hello there, sorry but you took the wrong turn. The tourist house is down the road another kilometer.”

“Hi, good afternoon.” I said stepping up. Always a good idea to let the omega of the group speak first in situations like this, shows the group isn’t hostile. Or at least not at first. “We’re not lost. Wonder if you could help us out, we’re doing research on some people who owned this house once, the Marr family....”

Now got a good look at her, she had salt and pepper dark hair, a little on the stout side and didn’t speak like a native of Jersey. “I’m sorry dearie, but you’ve come all this way for nothing. The Marr’s haven’t owned this property since 1942. My mate and I bought it about five years ago.”

“Do you know anything about the house or the people who owned it?” Mary took the bit between her teeth.

“A little,” the lady said. “The house was built back in the late 1300’s and stayed in the same family up until the late 1800’s when it went through several different owners until we bought it. Poor thing was in such awful shape that we got it for almost nothing. Locals wouldn’t touch it, said it was bad luck or some such nonsense.”

“Wager it was the ‘evil eye’,” Louisa piped up. “Sounds like something Mum would do. She had a natural turn for it.”

“I understand the Marr’s tried to get their property back at one point,” I continued, this old gal seems to know more then what she letting on. “And were unsuccessful.”

“That’s what we got from some of the locals, after they had a drop or two and were in mind of talking, or confessing. The Marr’s challenged the bail à fin d'héritage from the German Garrison Command and Parish Héritage division saying this was not a legitimate transfer of property. Legal papers had those damn swastikas all over it. The court ruled in the favor of the current property owners on the basis the sale was considered legal at the time and the Marr’s left empty handed. Poor souls.”

“How did you come to own the place?” John had set Jeff down and let him run around and around the car.

“We were here on holiday,” she said, taking a sweet out of her pocket. “Have a jelly baby?” Jeff saw the offered goodie and immediately toddled over and stuffed it in his mouth. “Howard, my mate, had come here back in December of 1944 on the Red Cross ship Vega. They’d got permission from the German authorities on the islands to deliver relief supplies to the people on Jersey, Sark and Guernsey. In desperate straights they were, just about ready to starve. Even as bleak as it was, he could see there was something special about this place, and years later we’d come here on holiday. One day we were tramping about when we came upon the property and there was this funny old ‘For Sale’ sign out the gate by the road.” 

She went on to tell about some of the problems getting the papers in order, having the land surveyed as no one local would do it. “Had to bring in someone from Guernsey at twice the going fee,” our new acquaintance snorted. But once we put that funny little box with the rolled up paper in it that we found in the barn back on the door frame...”

“The mezuzah,” Louisa breathed. “That would break the evil eye.”

“Every thing came up roses after that.” Then the lady blushed, “oh where are my manners.” She took off the gardening gloves and held out her hand, “I’m Mrs Hartwick late of Sudbury.....and you all...including this little nipper?”

As introductions were made all around, Mrs Hartwick excused herself and dashed in to get Mr Hartwick off the chesterfield and looked a bit more spiffed up as it is not every day you have an American general, his mates and toddler son turn up on your door step. We were invited in for an early supper of oyster stew, dark bread and butter, along with apple tart for desert. A good locally brewed dark beer and apple brandy made the occasion merrier. Louisa in the mean time flitted about happily seeing the modern updates to the house (almost getting herself caught in the microwave oven) and even happier, seeing what remained from her time. “Oh the grammy is still here,” the old gramophone record player stood in the corner on a table. It was another find in the barn.

“Haven’t been able to get it to work,” Mr Hartwick grumbled. “Tinkered with the dem thing for years don’t you know....”

Then of course, don’t you know, that’s when it started to play:

Goodnight sweetheart, all my prayers are for you  
Goodnight sweetheart, I’ll be watching o’er you  
Tears and parting may make us forlorn  
But with the dawn, a new day is born  
So I’ll say, Goodnight sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow  
Goodnight sweetheart, when we meet tomorrow  
Dreams will enfold you, in each one I’ll hold you  
Goodnight sweetheart goodnight. 

“Wow,” John smiled sweetly, before taking a deep swig of beer. “You fixed it.” 

Later when we said our good nights, Louisa didn’t come with us. “I can feel I don’t ave much time left of this side and wanna stay ‘ere for the remaining time I’ve got. Thank you all for setting me free and bringing me back.” As a special thank you, Louisa left us with two gifts: the first being, we could see her at last. A sweet faced beta girl materialized in the pale illumination from the porch light. She had dark curly hair, done in bob, a small white wagon wheel hat with plastic cherries was set at jaunty angle crowned those curls. Cupid lips, bright eyes under that chapeau, a neat little white dress with cap sleeves (for the zillionth time, finishing school, fashion classes for male and female students were mandatory) and red belt. Red and white high heeled wing tips finished the look.

John wolf whistled. “Looking good there toots.” Louisa giggled like a school girl and twirled. 

The second gift came a moment later when the ghost drifted up to us. “Alpha Mary, I have a favor of you. Please, it would mean so much.”

“What is it Sweet heart?” Could see she had a soft spot for our girl, especially now that the spirit was standing before us.

Oh she laid on those big puppy dog eyes. “Please tell my mum about what ‘appened to Dad and me. The rabbi will write her a letter for sure, but if maybe....you could.....and you done so much already......tell her face to face like? So she can ‘ave Mourners Kaddish said for us at shul and at least know the correct anniversary day of our deaths.”

And Mary without hesitation agreed that she would take the morning ferry to Portsmouth tomorrow. Course that would mean I didn’t have a leg to stand on to complain that SHE would get to spend an uninterrupted night with John.

“But it do get ‘er off your ass for the rest of the trip,” Louisa gave my bum a pinch as she skipped by. “And you two can fuck like bunnies.” Okay, I can be magnanimous for one night. 

And that’s the last time we would see of our ghost. As we were about to get in the car, Louisa Marr waved goodbye, blew us a kiss and skipped back toward the house, slowly dissipating until there was just a small whisp of smoke as the front door opened by itself and then closed.

“Bye bye Hungee Lady,” Jeff called after her.

By the time we’d checked in to the Hotel Corolie at Millbrook I was all tuckered out. The day had caught up with Jeff and me as he was tired and cranky and I wasn’t too far behind. Thank the Alpha God it was only 15 or 20 minutes from the Hartwicks home. The hotel had a view of the ocean on one side and the other side overlooked the swimming pool. Mary had booked she and John the ocean view on the third floor, I got pool view on the second. Which is fine, I’m still magnanimous, she’s leaving in the morning. For someone who was SOOOOOO concerned with Jeff’s welfare that she had to come on this trip, Mary seemed content with leaving him with me for the evening. Bitch. Okay, credit where credit is due, she did do yesterdays leg work on the Marr family. Other then that...Bitch.

Got Jeff bathed, diapered and laid down in the crib the hotel supplied. He conked right out without a breath of scent. As for me (since it was only me-damn it) pulled out a ratty pair of boxer shorts and an OD green t shirt out of the duffel. Had packed em for that run in January out to Hof and forgot they were in there until now. Also brought out the ‘Lovers Kiss’, slapped in a magazine and pulled back the slide, chambered a round, put on the safety and slipped it under the pillow. Now just had brush my teeth and was all set for the night. Or so it seemed.

It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable, but always had trouble getting to sleep in a strange place when there wasn’t an alpha in bed with me. You’d think this wouldn’t be an issue moving around as much as I did growing up, but it was. Which is why Gabe or Balti always slept with me. So was FINALLY drifting off to sleep as the village clock chimed one, when could hear a key slide into the lock of my door and the tumblers click open. Reached under the pillow, felt around until my fingers wrapped around the familiar cold steel. The click of the safety coming off sounded loud as a shot even muffled under the pillow but hopefully who ever this was would just think it was a mattress spring. The door opened just far enough to let who ever it was slide through, as the head board was on the same wall as the entrance way, so didn’t get a good look at who ever was trying to come in. Could hear the soft sound of their breathing as they moved closer until who ever it was right at the edge of the bed.

“I know you’re awake Cassie me cushlamachree . Would ya mind taken that finger off the trigger and be putting the safety back on? Had been on the wrong side of too many pointy objects and things that go boom the last couple of days (damn Action Directe imbeciles), so be a dear and take pity on a poor alpha.” 

Now reached over to the bed side lamp and clicked it on. “Mick Davies?! What the fuck man! I could’ve shot you! And besides what are you doing here? I thought you were in the states.” My wild Irish boy was looking a little worse for wear, as he took a seat on the side of the mattress and leaned in for a kiss. Held up a finger and laid it on his lips to bring his face to halt an inch from their intended target. “Kiss later, ‘splain now, how did you find us?”

Mick barked a laugh as he took my finger from his lips and kissed the pad “I had to be in Paris any way, a little clean up job for Lord Moore and you two were a side attraction.” Then pushed it aside, cupped a hand behind my head and roughly took my mouth. The kisses were hard, desperate and needing of a man who wanted to be reminded there is life in this world instead of nothing but anger and death. Then with a pop of lips and spit, he broke the kiss. “How did I find ya? Believe me, it wasn’t hard. You idiots left a trail a blind man could follow.” Mick pulled a manila envelope out from the small of his back. “You’re bloody lucky the Old Man has contacts in the Paris Police Latin District Perfecture. Last thing your General needs is to have someone get ahold of these.”

He opened the envelope and upended a stack of photos and negetives on to the bed. Picked up one of the pictures. Oh Christ on a Crutch, it’s us! “The motorcycle ride through that park.” 

“The Jardin du Luxembourg,” Mick said grandly. “Really pretty place in the summer time. The wee nippers sailing boats in the pond, picnics the locals are crazy for and a crap load of tourists with their cameras. Lots of cameras. No matter what time of year it tis. You two are very photogenic by the way.”

“Fuck!” There we were in glorious black and white, Kodachrome and Polaroids. Some of them were a little blurry but a lot were very clear and could see our faces plain as day. Wow, John looks really hot to trot in that leather jacket. “Holy Baby Jebus, what did these people do? Take the snaps and then make a bee line for the nearest Fotohut?”

“Must have,” Mick kicked off his shoes, lay down on the bed and propped his head up on a bunched up lot of pillows. “Oh this is grand it is. Ah, this feels like laying in the clover.” 

“Make yourself ta home,” I said sarcasticly, flipping through the pictures.

“Thank ya, think I will.” Assbutt. “Anywho, these law abiding souls ran straight to their local Police Perfecture with all matter of photographic evidence.” Then he sighed mightily in the philosophically sorrowful manner that only an Irishman can, “sad it is, very sad indeed. All that nice evidence was ‘accidentally’ destroyed in a careless accident.” 

Three cheers for ‘careless accidents’. “Is this all of it? Photos and negetives?”

“Yup, especially the negatives.....or almost,” Mick was grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “I kept one for me self.”

Held out my hand, “come on you sneak. Give it over.”

“Oh no, not when I can make myself quite content with a lovely photo,” he waved it in front of my nose but didn’t pull it back fast enough. After years of having Mike and Luci play ‘keep away’ with my stuff, I got really quick at the feign left then pull right. Or vice-a de verse. Rolled off the bed and dashed into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. Oh crap, listened for a moment. Nope, no crying. Jeff was still out for the count.

Flicked on the bathroom light to find the picture was a little crumpled and had a rip in it where I’d grabbed, but pushed the photo together where I got a good look at it, “HOLY MOTHER JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!” This is us in front of that open window at the Relais hotel du Vieux! The photographer caught us just as Johns hands were wet with cum and milk and I was bucking in passion. Flung open the door to find Mick had shucked off his clothes, got under the covers and was sitting up in bed pretending to read the Gideon Bible out of the night stand drawer.

“It would probably be a little easier to read if it wasn’t upside down,” I commented dryly.

“More then likely,” he admitted with that sexy grin of his, tossing it back in the drawer. “But the good sisters at the orphanage always said I was more devil then angel anyway.”

Orphanage? A story for later, but let’s start with the here and now. “Someone got a picture of us at the hotel?”

“Yup, I did.” Mick was looking very proud of himself. “Just a little something to warm the very cockles of me heart, when my bed is cold and lonely.”

“Well THAT is just rude.” Sexy as hell, but rude none the less. “But how did you find us?”

“Hey, as I said. You two left a trail a blind man could follow. The general had to leave an itinerary of where he was going, so the first part of was easy, right up until you kicked out that Novotel. Oh that manager was a right wab, had a mouth like a bag o’ cheap crisps, you know the kind. Stale and greasy. Said he gave you the toss because your wee one caused trouble and you didn’t take him in hand.”

Why that Awebao Mascabola!!!!!! “We got tossed out because the ghost got a french fry and Jeff called that manager a ‘blockwart’.” Course had to explain the whole thing about the hotel sitting on a concentration camp, the ghosts being trapped there and how we came to be in Jersey because of Louisa Marr.

It took a moment after an answer like that, as his mouth opened and closed trying to find the right thing to say next …..“Well.....trust you people to have the most interesting explanation for things but it does explain why the sudden turn of events. We got a change in itinerary, had a man following...from a respectful distance.... so we found where you were staying in Paris and since I was already here and could change my plans for a later flight to the US....I uh, made sure......

“You...you spied on us!” I was rather indignant.

“Merely observed,” Mick was the soul of innocence. “Making sure that an important man like your mate wasn’t kidnapped or murdered in his bed with his omega mate and son right there to witness. Oh the horror of it all.”

Okay, maybe I wasn’t THAT indigent, as I crawled on to the bed beside him. “Of course you JUST had to take a few pictures.”

“Just maken sure the camera worked. Couldn’t have faulty equipment now could I?”

Okay, that’s it. No more verbal jousting. “Mick, it’s late, I’m tired and there is just so much bullshit I can stand at this hour of the night. If you wanna stay, you’re welcome but just let me get some rest.”

“Don’t mind if I do, but shuck off that nasty green t-shirt and shorts first. Have had my fill of hard dicks in green for a life time. Thank you very much.” 

Stripped down, tossed up the covers and climbed in. “No funny business.” (Yeah, right. Naked omega and horny alpha-sure everyone will behave.) Put a hand under the pillow. Yup, the Lovers Kiss was still there. 

“Just a wee bit of naughty business.” Oh that devil may care grin of his.

Oh the many different ways you can say a mans name in the course of just a few spare minutes. “Mick! (annoyance).......Ohhhhhhh Mick (pleasure)............Oh Alpha God please don’t stop Mick! (Because if you do, I’ll have to fucking kill ya!)

The next morning I woke alone. My wild Irish boy was gone like a will o the wisp. All that remained was the package of photos and negatives. Even the picture of John and I was there. Whew, dodged a bullet with that one.....until I read the note Mick left. 

Castiel,

Wish I didn’t have to leave but had to catch the early ferry back to St Malo to catch my flight out of Paris to Washington by noon. Should be back the first week in June.

Left you that photo of you and your general, but kept the negative. My bed is too cold to be without a few copies of you to warm it.

Mick

Suppose I couldn’t fault him for that.

 

 

=========================================================================  
Yeah, kinda went wild with the notes again:

 

Novotel: A French hotel chain started in 1967 is part of the Accor Hotel Group and is currently in 60 countries. 

Promotion from second lieutenant to first is automatic after 18 months of active service, unless you are a total screw up. Promotion to captain is a little more tricky, as your service record and evaluations are taken into consideration. The promotion list was printed once a year in the Army Times newspaper and your name would show up with a number attached. There would be so many people promoted per month and you would be promoted in the month your number comes up. Castiel will see his promotion to First Lieutenant in January of 1980. I don’t know about now, but back then you were expected to throw a party, usually at the officers club, to celebrate your promotion. 

* Chapter 20: Let Thy Congregation Escape Tribulation-Yet Another Novac Thanksgiving

Smoked cigars, drank beer and let a child sit on your lap all while driving down the highway. Welcome to my family’s vacations when I was growing up.

Danish Modern, now called Mid Century Modern. It was very functionally designed with clean lines and no frills. Kind of like what you see in Ikea now. I associate it with dentist offices.

South of the Border: the tackiest of tourist destinations EVER on the east coast of the United States. There was a time in the 60’s, 70’s and even into the 80’s where half the cars you saw on the road had a South of the Border bumper sticker plastered on the back of their vehicle. Short showers, if you are a tall person you are SOL, as in the motel there at South of the Border you have to just about be on your knees to take a shower, as the shower heads are rather low. Tall ass Mexican of course refers to ‘Pedro’ the mascot.

Essen: eat

And how did I know what was on the menu at the Saarbrucken Novotel? Because I have a menu from that time period. Ebay is a wonderous thing.

The hotel in question sits on the site of the womans section (Frauenlager) of the one time Neue Bremm Gespapo Camp, where thousands were tortured and starved before being sent to other camps or just killed outright. At the time of the story there was only one small monument with the inscription written in French, as the area was under France’s control in 1947. It was not until 2002 when a larger monument was put in place.

Blockwart:  from the word Blockleiter was the title of a lower Nazi Party political rank responsible for the political supervision of a neighborhood. Referred to in common parlance as Blockwart (Block Warden), the officials were in charge to form the link between the Nazi authorities and the general population. The derogatory term Blockwart ("snoop") survives in German colloquial language. It was also the duty of the Blockleiter to spy on the population and report any anti-Nazi activities to the local Gestapo office-Wikipedia

Crunchie is a brand of chocolate bar with a honeycomb toffee sugar centre. It is made by Cadbury and was originally launched in the UK by J. S. Fry & Sons in 1929 -Wikipedia

The Blessed Alphas, is a take on the ‘Righteous Gentiles’ called-Righteous Among the Nations’ and honorific bestowed by the State of Israel to those Christians who risked their lives to save Jews during WW2.

Pablo Fanque: 19th-century British tightrope walker and "rope dancer", among other talents, although best known as the first black circus owner in Britain, and for his mention in the Beatles song, Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! -Wikipedia

Vingtenier: an honorary policeman found on Jersey

Mullard: Jersey slang for a dull unintelligent person

Sheidim: an evil spirit in early Jewish lore. 

Chesterfield Rugby: a chesterfield is an older generic term for a "sofa" in UK and Canadian English, and rugby, a contact sport, alluding to the physical nature of the act of sex.

Olam Ha Bah: what Orthodox and several other denominations of Judaism refer to as Heaven.

Dead fish meter of house guests: you all know that one, about company being like dead fish. After two days it starts to smell and after three it really reeks.

Course this song is ‘Minnie the Moocher’ Songwriters: CAB CALLOWAY, CLARENCE GASKILL, IRVING MILLS, first recorded by Calloway in 1931. 

Three Little Fishies" is a song from 1939, recorded by Kay Kyser and His Band, with words by Josephine Carringer and Bernice Idins and music by Saxie Dowell. 

Honigbär : a German endearment meaning honey bear

Mien Schatz: My Treasure

Alouette Helicopters: are single-engine, light utility helicopters developed bythe French aircraft company Sud Aviation. Their engines are known to have a high pitch squeal, which is why you will not find any mice any where there are Alouettes. The sound hurts their ears.

Stand reveille in a tree: reveille is the bugle call to get up and in formation. Most times you’re already up, in formation and saluting the colors as this is when they’re raised. And what stands reveille in a tree? An owl, that’s who.

The Moto Guzzie they stol....borrowed, they definitely borrowed it https://www.flickr.com/photos/astrovinni/3442263 

Nimbus Lexus: a motorcycle built in Denmark from 1920 to 1957

Jardin du Luxembourg: in English, the Luxembourg Gardens....covers 23 hectares and is known for its lawns, tree-lined promenades, flowerbeds, model sailboats on its circular basin, and picturesque Medici Fountain, built in 1620. The name Luxembourg comes from the Latin Mons Lucotitius, the name of the hill where the garden is located.

Steve McQueen: best known for his roles in the movies ‘Bullett’ and ‘The Great Escape’. He was an avid motorcycle enthusiast and raced dirt bikes. He was also the essence of cool every guy wanted to be in the 60’s and 70’s.

The Wheels on the Bus" is an American folk song written by Verna Hills (1898–1990) and published in 1939. I suspect at one time you could find more then one copy of the cassette tape a long side the road, tossed out by the parent who couldn’t stand to hear it a second longer. 

Colînmachon: A Jèrriais word meaning a snail. Jerriais is a romance language found specific to the Island of Jersey. It’s use is in decline as English is the language more commonly spoken.

Francois Henri "Jack" LaLanne ( September 26, 1914–January 23, 2011) was an American fitness, exercise, and nutrition expert and motivational speaker.....Decades before health and fitness began being promoted by celebrities like Jane Fonda and Richard Simmons, LaLanne was already widely recognized for publicly preaching the health benefits of regular exercise and a good diet. He published numerous books on fitness and hosted the fitness television program The Jack LaLanne Show between 1953 and 1985.-Wikipedia 

The Canadian formulation of Preparation H includes a yeast extract called BioDyne, which was removed in 1995 from the formulation sold in the United States. This yeast extract is believed by Pfizer to remove wrinkles from skin and heal dry, cracked, and irritated skin. The Canadian formulation has acquired a market in the United States as a skin cream with an anti-wrinkle active ingredient. -Wikipedia The Greek version has the yeast extract too. 

Mary’s rental car  
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ford_Cortina#/media/File:1977_Ford_Cortina_2.0_Ghia_Estate_(13918703250).jpg 

Louisa’s house:  
La Ruette Des Mannaies, St. Ouen, Jersey  
https://www.onthemarket.com/details/7136238/?test=8&utm_source=newsnow&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=newsnow_feed&utm_content=clickad 

bail à fin d'héritage : Jersey French for sale of real estate

Goodnight Sweetheart: was a British popular song written in 1931 by the song-writing team of Ray Noble,Jimmy Campbell and Reg Connelly.-Wikipedia. If you’re a fan of the original Star Trek series, you will remember the song being played in the episode, ‘City on the Edge of Forever’. 

Following the death of a child, spouse, or sibling it is customary to recite the Mourner's Kaddish in the presence of a congregation daily for thirty days, or eleven months in the case of a parent, and then at every anniversary of the death. -Wikipedia. This is a prayer to remember the person who died and praise G-d. 

Action directe was a French far-left terrorist group which committed a series of assassinations and violent attacks in France between 1979 and 1987. Members of Action directe considered themselves libertarian communists who had formed an "urban guerrilla organization" -Wikipedia

The Foto Hut was a photography store chain started in 1972 and lasted until 2003. You’d drop your film off and then come back in a couple of days or for a little extra, one hour, to pick up the pictures.

Wab: Northern Irish insult, you’re calling someone a dick

Awebao Mascabola : Panamanian slang for idiot cocksucker

The Second World War has been and even now, a rather sore subject with the people of Jersey and the other Channel Islands. The British government had basically left them to fend for themselves, although allowing people who wanted to evacuate (if they were citizens) to come to and stay in Great Britain during the war. Which left the local governments to cooperate with the invading Nazis, to a degree that was, looking back on it, alarming. Neighbors snitched on neighbors, the police and local officials cooperated fully with rounding up Jews and to protect a slave laborer meant your own death, so it was not a fun time to be on these islands. The first memorial to that time didn’t appear on Jersey, Guernsey or Sark until the 1980’s. It wasn’t until the 90’s there was anything to the people who were deported and the early 2000’s when finally a memorial to the Jews who were taken away was erected.


End file.
